Clockwork City
by LilithRisen
Summary: London detective, Clarissa Fairchild, moves to New York City in hopes of starting a new life and ridding herself of her past. On the other side, big shot Jace Herondale is the best detective in New York City. Taking on murder cases, psychotic ex girlfriends, and so much sexual tension it's deadly.Homicide is about to get a hell of a lot sexier. May turn to M later. OOC/AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

**_CHAPTER 1_**

**_Chapter song_**

**_*Lighters by Eminem and Bruno Mars*_**

The homicide floor of the police building was as plain as could be, a rectangular room on the left of the elevator. The sounds of heels clicking on the polished wooden floor resonated throughout the hall and joined the clattering of keyboards and murmur of conversation, causing a few of the people sitting at desks to look her way. Clare Fairchild ignored the people sitting at each of the highly polished metal and wood desks, all perfectly aligned in the middle of the room. She kept her eyes averted, walking to the end where a wall of glass separated the floor from the Chief's office, the man she came to see.

Through another glass wall running across her right side, Clare noticed two men in what she presumed to be the break room through the open blinds. A black haired young man with his back towards her and a man in what looked like a laboratory coat, sporting light brown hair and rounded glasses on the rim of his long, thin nose. Their glass muffled voices reached her ears, laughs and light conversation discernible.

A quick rap of her knuckles, and the gravely voice of Hodge Starkweather asks her to join him inside. Entering the large office, she immediately focused on the man swiftly standing up behind the cherry wood desk. A sharply cut gray suit hanging onto his thin frame, fabric the same color of his laugh-lined eyes and elegantly combed thin hair. The slated color seemed to dominate this man, making him stand out like a faded portion on a sepia picture. A thin, outstretched hand shook hers firmly, the smallest smile gracing his thin lips.

"Hodge Starkweather." He said, introducing himself. Clare nodded briskly, storing his name in her mind.

"Clare Fairchild, pleasure." She murmured, retracting her hand. A polite hand gestured for her to sit down, and she stifled the groan of relief. She shuddered at the thought of bleeding all over the stainless floor; a heel induced ache had settled into her sore feet almost an hour ago and had only grew. Not wanting to wake Maia by going back into the apartment and digging through the shoe closet for another hour, she had decided to deal with it.

They exchanged pleasantries, making light talk of how she's adapting to New York after moving from London. She refrained from complaining about the rank smell that seemed to ooze from every corner. Coffee was offered and declined. She wanted nothing but to get down to business and go back to her apartment search. Currently she was crashing at her college roommates small two bedroom on the opposite side of the area she needed to live in.

Maia and her boyfriend, Jordan, lived in a pretty good neighborhood and they both had stable jobs, which made Clare feel even more like she was intruding on their lives. Judging by Jordans frequent absences from the apartment, he agreed. However Maia had been Clare's roommate when she had come from London to study abroad, and was quick to let her stay at her place in New york. But Clare couldn't intrude any longer, even if Maia denied the application.

"Why are you transferring to the NYPD?" Clare had been asked the same question by everyone she told about her job shift, and gave the same tight lipped answer to her family.

Clare crossed her legs, lacing her thin fingers over her knee to distract from the shadow that had no doubt crossed her face. "I need a new scene. Someplace where it doesn't rain 24/7." Hodge chuckled lightly, smile lines becoming prominent around his eyes. Clare reciprocated.

"I've read your file. You have a bachelor's degree in engineering, you were at the top of your class in the academy, spent six months training in hostage negotiations, then another six months in a bomb squad, even spent a semester at NYU, and your weapon expertise is impressive to say the least." Clare couldn't help straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin at the reciting of her accomplishments. Hodge glanced over at her fidgeting, a small smile finishing his words.

"Thank you. The degree in Engineering was mostly before I decided my career, but I've been dedicating everything towards this career in law since my freshman year in college." The crows feet around his eyes strained as he smiled.

"Whatever the reason for your transfer here, I'm very glad that you'll be joining our little family." They talked a while after that, discussing the changes of the London office to the New York one, and what kind of work she would be doing. It seems practically the same as her job in London, and Clare caught herself daydreaming. His voice ending brings her back to life, and she offered him a smile and a nod to make it seem like she was listening. Standing up, Hodge escorted her out of the office with a polite hand. Clare grinned to herself in satisfaction at herself for managing to get paired with a good head of the department, even though she had nothing to do with it in the first place. Hodge was respectable, unlike her previous chief who smelled as the gutters after rain.

The black haired boy from the break room turned to look their way, revealing shockingly electric blue eyes. A black gun and a silver badge outlined his upper leg, identifying him as one of Clare's new co- workers. His left eyebrow raise in a delicate arch at the sight of Hodges hand on the small of her back, and a weaker woman than Clare would have blushed at the insinuation.

She walked out of the precinct, almost stumbling on her heels as the cold, icy air kissed her pale face and bare neck. Clare wrapped her green scarf tighter around her neck, continuing forward on the cigarette littered concrete. She still had two apartments to view and she really wanted to get there quickly, but that didn't seem possible unless she kicked off the heels or at least changed into shoes that weren't absolute rubbish. Debating whether or not frostbite and disease were worth taking off the heels and going barefoot, her voice of reason was interrupted when she spied a small shoe store, elegant curling script printed in white on the little black awning. Oh, thank the heavens.

As she entered the golden lit shoppe, Clare immediately felt the affection physically wrap around her. The warm air hit her, and Clare welcomed it with a sigh. Unwrapping her scarf, she headed to the boots section while ignoring the display of heels. There was no way in hell she would leave this store in another pair of pumps, even if the sale tag on the strappy maroon pair called to her. That's what got her in this mess, a bloody sale.

Eyeing her outfit, Clare decides on looking for something brown to match with her dark blue jeans and grey blouse, as well as the long black coat now draped over her arm. Looking around, her eyes land on a pair of calf high, chocolate brown boots that look butter soft. She felt the thick black lining, eyeing the completely flat sole with satisfaction. Not an inch of heel.

A sweet voice called out to her beyond the stacks of pastel colored boxes. "I love your shoes." Here we go. Clare swore silently that if someone tried to sell her more heels she was going to lose it and throw one at them. Lefty was looking especially painful today.

Grinding her teeth, Clare turned to see a tall raven haired girl with dark brown eyes smiling triumphantly at her. She was wearing a dark red dress that barely hits her mid thigh. Clare wondered how she didn't have frostbite all over her bare legs. Isabelle was printed onto her name tag in curling black script.

"Oh thanks but I actually came to buy something, anything really, without a heel. I think the point of walking is to be able to feel your feet." The girl laughed and came closer to the gorgeous brown boots.

"Personally, I love high heels. These are probably the only shoes I would buy that don't have a heel. What's your name? And also, are you from the UK? You have a pretty strong accent." Isabelle looked down at Clare's feet while rattling on then pulled out a box, size 7. How in the bloody hell did she do that? Maybe those wicked long fingernails of hers could cast spells.

"Clare." Isabelle handed the red box to the redhead and smiled. "Thanks." A sudden flash of realisation struck Isabelles beautiful features, morphing them into a face of surprise.

"Aren't you Maia's old college roommate?" Clare raised a suspicious eyebrow at her statement, not able to stop herself from backing away in caution. How in the hell did she know that?

Isabelle's excitement faded into hurt and confusion at Clare's small gesture, then to understanding. Her full pink lips dropped into an 'oh' as she put her hands up. "Oh sorry, I just realize how terrifying that must sound! I'm not a stalker, I swear. Maia works with my brother, and she mentioned a british roommate and showed us all a photo of the two of you." Slightly put at ease, Clare took a closer look at Isabelles raven black hair that fell straight, creamy unmarked skin, and lean build. She looked exactly like the boy in the break room, except the difference in eye color. Maia does work with the NYPD as well. Could they be related?

Isabelle walked Clare to checkout after apologizing again. After Clare paid, Isabelle held her arm and supported her while she changed shoes. "Thanks. And to answer your question from earlier, yes I just moved from the UK."

Isabelle's eyes lit up as she let Clare straighten up. "You should come out with me and Maia tonight!" Seeing the dread pass Clare's softer features, Isabelle hastily added, "It'll be fun, kind of like an introduction to New York city life." Isabelle went into detail about some nightclub called Pandemonium, talking for what seemed like an hour just about sparkling champagne. At the end, Clare agreed just so she could make it to her next apartment viewing on time.

When Clare was able to feel her toes again, she walked to the last building on her list. She was scheduled to look at the last available apartment and that alone gave Clare a sense of purpose. The last one she looked at had been, in a word, horrific. So with all her heart, Clare prayed she would like this building. And luckily, so far she did.

This building looked pristine, set in the middle of a good neighborhood, within walking distance of the precinct. Trudging into the light blue foyer, Clare was a little disappointed to see there wasn't an elevator. Sighing, she starts her twelve flight ascension up the carpeted stairs. Clare was breathless when she finally walked to the door. At least if she got this place she would stay in shape.

The door had a brown paintjob and cursive black writing etched into the grained wood, spelling out different words in a middle aged motherly fashion. It was interesting. Rapping her knuckles on the door, she was greeted almost immediately by a thin blonde woman. Her body squeezed into a pencil skirt and blazer, the woman throws a red painted smile at Clare, stretching her already thin lips tighter. She balanced a tablet on her arm.

"Hello! You must be Clare Fairchild." The woman pulled violently at Clares outstretched hand. "I'm Avalon, Green Real Estate agent." Clare pulled away quickly, really wanting to put ice on her hand before it began to swell.

"Nice to meet you. What can you tell me about this apartment building?" Avalon was around Clare's age, probably not over 26. She took a deep breath and closed the apartment door behind Clare.

"Well let's start with the bad things. The next door neighbors are a very big pain. There's always yelling going on. That's actually why the old tenants moved out. Other than that this building is very secure, you need a key to the front door or someone to buzz you up. And yes, I left the door open for you earlier so that's why you got in. We are very close to the police precinct and I know you mention you work there, so that's perfect! Oh and we are very close to the shopping district and a pretty girl like you needs the latest fashion!" She giggled lightly at her own joke. This woman was the perkiest human being Clare had ever met. She wondered if she slept in a bed made of glitter and dreams. The thought made Clare want to giggle right along side her.

"Do you mind if I look around on my own?" Clare asked, hoping to have a minute to take in the apartment without the seemingly obscene cheerleader three inches from her face. The woman nodded and wandered off muttering something about finding the cookies, leaving Clare to turn and study the apartment.

The walls were repainted an off white and a plush looking carpet had recently been put in. A grey bar was stationed between the living room and kitchen, functioning as a shelf and breakfast bar. Looking around, she ducks into the large master bedroom, painted a lovely champagne color. The other bedroom is smaller, but still nice and painted the same color as before. There was a double door to a balcony, overlooking a good portion of New York city. The two bedroom apartment was huge and Clare was immensely grateful for her father and his money. Well, he was in jail, and he had no say in what she used his money for. At least she wasn't blowing it on shopping trips to Paris.

The kitchen was very modern. White cabinets, a silver refrigerator, black stove, and the top cabinet doors were made of glass with intricately thin spirals of wood. On closer inspection Clare could see the patterns embedded in the glass. Clare walked to the bathroom. The one bathroom outside of the master bedroom includes a shower stall, white sink, a mirror cabinet, and the white toilet. The apartment was quiet spacious.

Clare bought the apartment immediately, not wasting time waiting for another person to come and snatch it up. After hours of intense paperwork, and depleting her account to one third of its actuality, the agent hands her the keys and leaves her alone. Collapsing in a corner, she surveyed her new home. She calls Maia around noon and tells her that she would be moving into her new apartment by the end of the week. After a slightly too relieved response from her, Maia tells her that Isabelle had called and asked for her number to talk about going to club Pandemonium together. After tiredly agreeing, she hung up.

Clare had no furniture or cutlery or anything of any practical use, as a matter of fact she'd left behind half of her clothes and shoes with her mother. She reminds herself to call later and ask her mother to send them to her. She also mentally notes a furniture store she passed on the way over to the building that had a couch on display that looked adorable.

After doing a final inspection of every nook and cranny in her new home, Clare grabbed her coat and the shoes she dropped on the floor earlier, turning off all of the lights and leaving it behind. Sunset looked about an hour away, and Clare begrudgingly hailed a cab. Waste of money, but no way in hell is she walking all the way across the city. Especially in the dark.

The short, but more expensive than selling your kidney on the blackmarket, taxi ride led Clare through a winding of streets. Looking up Clare couldn't see stars only the reflection of light on the glass surfaces of the skyscrapers around her. London wasn't a small city by any means but there was more room for the people to live, to breathe, New York was crowded. It was loud and messy and Clare didn't feel at home. She felt like a stranger, visiting the city of bright lights and traffic jams.

She wonders if maybe curling up with a good book, a better cup of tea and headphones to avoid the incessant buzzing of traffic would calm her. Of course the lovely dream would have to wait, seeing as how she didn't have furniture or mugs in which to make her tea.

By the time Clare got to Maia's apartment, Isabelle is already there and dressed, her body fitted into the tightest and surprisingly modest of shimmery silver dresses and knee high black boots that complimented her disgustingly well. Her makeup is done in full, lips covered in a vivid colored lipstick that Clare couldn't pull off in her dreams. She looks up from throwing dresses at Maia, eyes lighting up.

"Thank goodness you're here! I was worried you would bail on us!" Isabelle said with a light laugh. Clare shook her head, dropping her coat on a nearby sofa.

"Not at all, I was just across town buying an apartment. Thanks for housing me, by the way Maia, but I will be out of your hair soon enough and you and Jordan can do whatever it is you pretend I can't hear at night." Clare said with a soft smile. Maia flushed and nodded fiercely, hazel curls bouncing around her coffee colored skin. Isabelle sighed loudly, dropping the multi colored dresses for a moment to study Clare.

"Your accent is so gorgeous Clare- what I would do to sound British." She said dreamily. Clare just laughed good heartedly in response, not sure what to say. Isabelle winked, a sparkle in her eyes. "The boys at Pandemonium are going to be tripping over each other to get a closer look at you." She announced, Maia following with an excited clap. Rolling her eyes, Clare falls onto the sofa next to Maia.

"So, I'm guessing you both have been debating what I'm going to be forced to wear tonight?" Clare asked, already knowing the answer. Maia grinned, reaching over and grabbing a hanger that seemed to be bigger than the dress hanging from it. It was ruby red, shorter than one of Isabelle's boots. Without even considering, Clare shook her head, looking appalled that the idea had even been suggested.

"I refuse." Isabelle and Maia begun to protest, but Clare brought her hands up to cut them off short. "First of all, I'm barely agreeing to come into this lionsden, so if I'm going, I'm dressing how I want to. Second of all, that's not a dress. That's underwear."

Not to Clare's surprise, it took about ten minutes for them to let her go dressed in jeans. With the exception that they were allowed to do her makeup and hair. That being the best deal Clare could make under the circumstances, she jumped at the opportunity. A mischievous light sparked in her friends eyes and she knew her mistake.

"You planned this!" Clare screeched, not particularly interested in sounding at all ladylike. Her mother would be shocked beyond compare if she heard about this.

"Clare, honey, you aren't exactly the type to let your friends put makeup on you unless you're getting something out of it." Isabelle was quickly becoming the most evil person Clare knew. Maia huffed her agreement.

Finally, she wrestled away from their painted grabby hands and escaped to her temporary bedroom. Stripping off the blouse and leaving herself in her lacy black tank top, Clare changed her jeans into darker ones that appeared more club-esque, mostly to please Isabelle, she headed to her vanity. A little more eyeliner, a refresh of her faint lipstick, she donned a gold necklace and put her new boots back on. Good enough. However, when she stepped outsides her sanctuary she was dragged right back in for touch ups.

When Clare finally returned to the living room, Maia is wearing a black one shouldered dress that goes well with her caramel colored skin. Both girls sighed at her underdressed state, even if she was more covered than both of them. Giving them both a glare, she silenced the protests before they came. "Can we just go?" Clare asked, placing a hand on her hips. They begrudgingly grabbed their purses, and they all walked out into the New York night.

* * *

Jace Herondale was sick of all the goddamn idiotic arguments with his girlfriend. Every time they fought it was always about something new and even more ridiculous. Last time it was about how he wakes her up when he comes home at ungodly hours of the night from work, the time before that it was about not getting her something big and flashy for their anniversary. This time it was about how he spent more time with Alec than with her.

Alec was his partner for the job she didn't seem to realize he had, it wasn't like he was ditching her to go drink in bars- well except for tonight, but then again it wasn't as if he could hang out at home now could he? Jace was a detective and he couldn't just disregard his responsibilities and duties to spend time with his needy girlfriend.

Currently, Alec and Jace had agreed to meet at a new club they had only been to a couple of times, Pandemonium. Jace may have been a huge party boy in high school and college, but once he entered the police academy he had to straighten up. A shudder ran through him as he reminisced of the first week at the academy, where he had shown up with a hangover. His commanding officer had yelled and made him run laps around school, which probably wouldn't be an issue if Jace could've stood on his own. For the next year of his life Jace didn't even smell alcohol. Even after leaving the academy and starting in homicide he still refused to drink more than two beers at one time.

The club was crowded as always and the alley, in which the entrance was held, smelled strongly of alcohol and body odor. Striding past the guard, Jace noticed the slight twitch in the burly man's jaw as he tried hard to keep his gaze averted from Jace. He must have remembered him from his last visit. Lets just say last time the guard had seen Jace, his slimey comment on Kaelie's outfit had earned him Jace's fist to his nose. And his girlfriend had still bitched because Jace refused to full on knock the guy out. Talk about cold hearted.

The guard waved him in, grumbling something under his breath that Jace refused to acknowledge, his mind quickly taken off it as the heady beat of the music coursed through him, the neon lights and the high that came off being young and beautiful almost intoxicating Jace. He breathed in the scent of perfume and sweat and alcohol, a small smile curving the edge of his lips. Ah, he'd missed this.

Squinting, he sighed as he realized the large, gyrating crowd that moved as one to the beat was currently blocking any view to the other side of the club. Where the hell was Alec? As he passed the bar, a group of girls giggled and swooned a little at the sight of him, batting their fake eyelashes and thrusting out their chests towards him. Normally Jace would have entertained the stray girls, but considering he was currently in a relationship and these girls didn't look older than 17, he didn't bother.

Jace made a mental note to discreetly check their IDs later then chastise the bartender, if need be. He spotted raven black hair and sighed before walking towards the bobbing head, pushing through the crowd. Isabelles familiar face took shape. Her slim figure was trapped inside a silver mini dress and knee high black heeled boots that he would normally find attractive, but the thought of Isabelle like that made him shudder. She spotted Jace too, and corners of her mouth turned down in a small but noticeable frown.

"Have you seen Alec?!" Jace had to shout over the thumping beat of the music. Isabelle turned and yelled her order at the bartender and turned back towards Jace, pointing her painted nail towards the stage. After stretching his neck in a manner that would impress a giraffe, Jace spotted his best friend. Alec was sitting in a stool talking to the most sparkling man Jace had ever seen- and that's saying something from the guy who had to go undercover for a strip club called 'Glitterati'. He seemed to be asian in origin, tanned skin donned in a purple leather vest and his jet black hair spiked up with glitter infused gel. They made that stuff? Why in God's name?

Alec and Sparkles nodded in greeting and Jace sat down on a twisting stool next to Alec. A waitress came to take his order and she, with little self-restraint, dropped her writing pad on the floor and bent over to pick it up, revealing her cleavage in the process. Jace looked away. It was ridiculous how many groupies were around in places like this. You should have seen Glitterati. At least here his clothes were on and would stay that way if he had any say in the matter. He couldn't say the same for the other people here.

"Did you and Kealie have another fight?" Jace just nodded and continued studying the swaying dancers, if you could call grinding against someone else dancing. Blondes in short dresses and half drunk losers, as far as the eye could see. Ah, New York, what a realm of possibility.

Alec noticed Jace's lack of attention and went back to talking to Sparkles. The waitress seemed to recover from the floor and wrote down Alec and Shimmers order, Jace just ordered a beer. Just because his relationship was on the rocks doesn't mean his drinks should be.

Behind the blinding amount of shine on Alec's new friend that made him look like a disco ball, Jace saw a table full of girls with Isabelle hovering among them. The other girls around the table were familiar looking. Jace knew two of them, Aline and Maia. Aline was a junior detective in the narcotics department and Maia was in the terrorist division. An unknowing pedestrian may not see the fashion designer, narcotics detective and terrorist diversionary- instead they just see the gorgeous girls in inappropriate attire, laughing with ditzy voices and bright eyes, tossing their hair back and shooting seductive smiles at those lucky enough to receive them. Oh, if only they knew.

A new girl was weaving her way over to his colleagues caught his eye, and Jace had to look twice. The short redhead wasn't dressed in a tight dress or barely there shorts like everyone else, but just in tight jeans and a black tank top. Brown boots and a gold necklace decorated her neck, but besides that she was plain. Did she even have any makeup on? Not any foundation by the looks of it. Jace shuddered at his knowledge of the stuff, considering how many times he'd had to watch Kaelie go through her hour long face placement.

The girl was nearing Isabelle's table. Jace thought about telling her not to bother trying, but Isabelle was already on her feet heading towards the girl. Jace wished he had popcorn to watch the vicious showdown about to occur.

Isabelles arm shot out and landed around the girl's slender shoulders. They smiled at each other and the girl held up her hands, showing the group her prize. She was holding a bottle of tequila and four shot glasses. Jace rose his eyebrows. He didn't know the girl and she already intrigued him. Setting the bottle down, the redhead poured out a shot for everybody and they all downed them at once without hesitation. The song finished up and Jace heard a booming voice come through the microphone.

"Can we get a volunteer for some karaoke?" The crowd was looking around itself, waiting for a volunteer to part the crowd. He saw Isabelle, Aline, and Maia push the new girl towards the stage. She fought against them, but eventually she ends up on the stage looking nervous. Her face was flushed, but she still made her way over to the guy at the microphone and whisper something in his ear. He nodded and handed her the microphone.

Isabelle climbed up with her own microphone, and Jace heard whistling from the guys around the bar. He couldn't blame them, both girls were very attractive, but the redhead looked incredibly tiny and almost breakable. She was probably a model Isabelle was using for a catwalk. The crowd was encouraging the girl to sing. The music started and she paled slightly, but Isabelle sang first.

_**This one's for you and me, living out our dreams**_

_**We're all right where we should be**_

_**with my arms out wide I open my eyes**_

_**And now all I wanna see**_

_**Is a sky full of lighters**_

_**A sky full of lighters**_

More than a few guys had relocated to the front of the stage to ogle at her. The red haired girl looked a little more confident at the crowds support, but not very. Until she opened her mouth and the most angelic voice started rapping.

**_By the time you hear this I will have already spiralled up_**

**_I would never do nothing to let you cowards fuck my world up_**

**_If I was you I would duck, or get struck, like lightning,_**

**_Fighters keep fighting, put your lighters up, point em' skyward uh_**

**_Had a dream, I was king, I woke up, still king_**

**_This rap game's nipple is mine for the milking,_**

**_Till nobody else even fucking feels me, till' it kills me_**

**_I swear to God I'll be the fucking illest in this music_**

**_There is or there ever will be, disagree?_**

**_Feel free, but from now on I'm refusing to ever give up_**

**_Only thing I ever gave up using's no more excuses_**

**_Excuse me if my head is too big for this building_**

**_And pardon me if I'm a cocky prick but you cocks are slick_**

**_Popping shit on how you flipped ya life around, crock-o-shit_**

**_Who you dicks tryna kid, flipped dick, you did opposite_**

**_You stayed the same, cause cock backwards is still cock you pricks_**

**_I love it when I tell em shove it_**

Jace felt like his jaw had found it's new home on the floor. This girl went from being terrified to rapping as if she spent every sunday night in front of crowds. The guys ogling Isabelle thought so too because they had relocated too. They were now cemented to the floor in front of the redhead, drooling. Isabelle sang her part but the attention towards her was less than ten percent. Jace made a mental note to add rapping to the growing list of surprising turn ons.

**_Cause it wasn't that, long ago when Marshall sat, flustered lack, lustered_**

**_Cause he couldn't cut mustard, muster up, nothing_**

**_Brain fuzzy, cause he's buzzin', woke up from that buzzin'_**

**_Now you wonder why he does it, how he does it_**

**_Wasn't cause he had buzzards circlin' around his head_**

**_Waiting for him to drop dead, was it?_**

**_Or was it cause them bitches wrote him off_**

**_Little hussy ass, scuzzes, fuck it, guess it doesn't matter now, does it_**

**_What difference it make?_**

**_What it take to get it through your thick skulls_**

**_That this ain't some bullshit_**

**_People don't usually come back this way_**

**_From a place that was dark as I was in_**

**_Just to get to this place_**

**_Now let these words be like a switch blade to a haters rib cage_**

**_And let it be known that from this day forward_**

**_I wanna just say thanks cause your hate is what gave me the strength_**

**_So let em bic's raise cause I came with 5'9" but I feel like I'm 6'8″!_**

Isabelle wasn't a bad singer. On any other night she would have been the complete and total reason for the gawking men- but tonight she wasn't the only hot girl up there. Even Jace himself felt a little overwhelmed by the red haired girl who had successfully strutted onto that stage and into his mind in the most odd way, despite the fact they've never had a conversation. But the night was still young.

The rest of the song was a blur, and if the girl noticed all the attention she didn't let on. She just kept rapping, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips the entire time. When the guy with the microphone came back on stage and the girls were escorted down, the room was filled with applause and jealous looks, accompanied with the occasional shout for an encore.

The guys from the bottom of the stage pushed passed dancers until they reached the table Isabelle and her friends sat at. The girls exchanged looks and laughed quietly, obviously passing over the guys. That didn't sit well with the beefed up guys in black wife beaters. Is that the universal dress code for douchebags?

Jace himself was in jeans and a black short sleeved t shirt. It wasn't exactly provocative clothing, yet Jace could still feel eyes on him. It egged on his already big ego, the blatant stares of the beautiful young women causing his lazy smirk to grow wider by the second. Being ogled wasn't new, being appreciated wasn't objected by Jace. So he threw his head back, feeling the stares but fixing his on only one girl.

The red haired angel sat with her legs crossed, twisting a stray curl around her finger. Jace couldn't tell from where he was sitting what color her eyes were, but he wanted to know. He stood up and began walking towards the table. He glanced back at Alec and The Wonderful of Oz, they weren't paying a drop of attention to him leaving. I need to learn that guys name, Jace thought to himself. When he neared the table, he heard the blonde guy talking to the red haired girl.

"Come on baby, it'll be fun." Judging by the girl's face, that opinion was highly one sided. The blonde placed his hand on the girl's thigh. Not even looking fazed, she raised her brows before she leaned in dangerously close, a devilish grin that peaked Jace's interest. It twisted her innocent face into the face of a pixie, sickeningly sweet with an edge like a knife.

"I suggest you take your hand off me before you lose that appendage, _baby_." She crooned, her smile capable of cutting glass. There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and luckily his friend apparently noticed it before the blonde himself.

"Conner, let's go." He tugged at the blondes-Conners- shirt. Connor leaned even closer to the girl's face and gripped her thigh tighter. It didn't faze anyone at the table. Aline, Isabelle, and Maia were deep in conversation with a drunk looking boy.

Conner looked like he was about to drag the girl by her red locks into a closet, ignoring the looks he was getting. A sudden surge of protectiveness came over him, and Jace, on instinct, stepped in front of her. His gaze flicked up to Jace, his face turning a disgustingly ugly red. Still he didn't let go of the girl's thigh. Some nerve this one.

"If I were you I'd listen to your friend and let go of my _girlfriend_." Jace, interrupted, dropping his voice into a soft, threatening tone. He was hoping the girl wouldn't sell him out, considering that would be mildly embarrassing for everyone involved. He didn't regularly play hero in places like this, especially without his badge and gun. Yet a warm feeling settled over him as he took his place next to her. He looked down covertly at the redhead, her face cool and smooth. Good, she wasn't blowing this.

Connor's friend pulled at his friend's arm again.A stronger urge to get the hell out of there. The guy didn't budge. Jace's gaze narrowed at the look in his eyes, jaw tensing. He put his arm around the redhead in a 'this is my future babymama, back up' manner, keeping his grip light. She tensed for a moment, but played along by throwing a small smile up at him with perfect teeth. She turned and grabbed a black leather jacket and a light brown purse.

"Let's go, love." She said in a sweet voice, a bit of disgust aimed at the drunk manchild. She was british, Jace realized absently at the sound of her crisp accent. She seemed to get hotter by the second.

It took Jace a second to recognize his own cover, body tensing for a moment before he nodded tightly. The red head kicked off the hand on her thigh and stood up, wrinkling her nose at Connor before turning to the rest of the women. His arm was still around her. She turned to Isabelle, who narrowed her black lined eyes and gave Jace a death glare. You try to do something nice. Red murmured her goodbyes. He heard Maia call her by her name, something with a C. Care? Was it short for Caroline?

They started walking to the exit, Jace hyper aware of Alec and Asian Disco Balls' confused expressions, and a few other glares from patrons at the bar. The girl herself received a few glares by the female company around. Jace couldn't help but grin at the sight. Once they were out of the club, Jace noticed Conner and his buddy following them a couple feet behind. He felt his back tense, but made sure to keep his expression clear in order to avoid the redhead panicking.

"So, what's my savior's name?" All he could focus on for a second was the beautiful accent. Jace's hot meter kept going up for this girl, by a lot. He seemed to have a weakness for redheads who were British and could rap. Go figure.

"Jace Herondale. At you service, my lady." He plucked her hand from her side and kissed the back smoothly, gliding his lips along her knuckles. He lingered for a moment. She smelled very flowery despite the alcohol she had downed. She smiled up at him, a small lilt of her lips. "And who do I have the pleasure of saving?"

"Clare Fairchild. Aren't you Alec's' best friend? Because if so, Isabelle does not like you in the slightest." She laughed and he joined her before glancing behind him. His friend was gone, but Conner was hanging around.

"That I know. Isabelle is not fond of very many people. Especially ones who are not female and don't care for fashion." Clare threw her head back and laughed a little louder. He had a better look at her eyes. They were emerald green, twinkling with specks of bronze. "What do you do for a living? Let me guess model? Actress?" She rolled her eyes and laughed. Jace decided he liked her laugh.

"I'm a homicide detective, actually." The girl was lying. Jace knew everyone in the whole precinct- there was no way in hell she could work homicide without him knowing. He didn't know why she would lie to him. He thought about telling her but thought of a better way. Let her trap herself in a lie.

"How long have you been in homicide?" Jace asks casually, waiting for her to eventually slip up. She looked at peace talking about this, the knot between her brows was gone and Jace prefered her smoldering eyes when they met his.

"Since I graduated from the academy. Approximately four years." She was good, but he was better. They took the next turn and then down the stairs to the subway. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Oh nothing special. I dapple." She rose her eyebrows like she didn't believe him, just like she shouldn't. Nothing special my ass, Jace thought, just the best damn homicide detective in New York City. Solved the unsolvable cases, cold for years, left abandoned and without hope. Then he came along and swept them into perfect files, revealing the truth.

"You know, you don't have to waste your money on the subway, I can take you home." Jace offered. He wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to spend more time with her but he narrowed the option down to Kealie or Clare.

Clare laughed smoothly, slipping out from underneath his arm. Had that been there the entire walk? "Nice try hero, but I'm not in the mood to invite a strange guy to the front of my door- no matter how many times he helped me out."

"I hope I have to help you out again. It will give me an excuse to see you." Clare just rolled her eyes at his claim, walking backwards away from him.

"Goodnight, Herondale."

"Goodnight, Clare." She ducked her head and retreated down the steps.

A moment later, and Jace still stood there, wondering about the strange redhead named Clare Fairchild.

* * *

_**Hello my beautifuls,**_

**_I'd like to thank my beta and lovely wife, Madeline for taking the time during her finals (might I add) to edit this._**

**_I love you and I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you._**

**_That goes for my fans and wife._**

**_P.S. I don't know why, out of all the rap songs I could have chosen, I went with this one so hush._**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

Clare stares down at the black case in her hands, willing it to ring. On second thought, she was hoping her new apartment was service free and the call wouldn't go through. Sadly she knew that was a pipe dream to begin with. Clare wanders around the empty space, running her fingers against the walls.

Humming a nameless tune Clare categorized the furniture she needed. Maia had gotten her a bland set of grey mugs and a simple kettle, they weren't the best but they would do for tea. She sipped gingerly at the earl grey that remained at the bottom. The silence stretched out as Clare glanced at her phone, begging it to end her torture. Clare sat with her back pressed against the wall, waiting. She could swear that she heard the ticking of a clock inside her head.

The last time she had seen her mother Clare had been getting on a plane; her mother was clutching her in a death grip. Jocelyn had promised to mail her all of the belonging she had packed. That had been quite a while a ago and nothing had arrived as of yet.

"Hello, mum?" Clare hadn't waited for the first ring to finish before sliding her finger across the screen and answering. Impatient as always, she could hear the mocking voices in the back of her head.

"Hello, sweetie. How is New York treating you?" Clare could feel the dread building in her gut, here we go again. Jocelyn wasn't a big supporter of change and personal growth.

"I'm well, I met with my precinct captain this week and I sent in the paperwork for my new apartment. Hopefully that will be finished sometime this month." Clare's mother grunt in what Clare assumed was mock agreement. "I'm not exactly sure, I haven't bought a home before." She joked, it came out dry and as desperate as Clare was for some sort of support.

Clare could head the slow breathing on the other end of the line. "I wish you would come home, dear." Jocelyn's voice was strained, crackling down the phone.

"Come on Mom, what am I supposed to do- spend the rest of my life as a patrol cop, handing out speeding tickets? You know Captain Pangborn is a sexist pig and I would never have made it to anything bigger than his secretary." It had taken Clare over a years to finally get over her fears of change and move to New York. She could handle setbacks, but when it came to the ass of a boss named Emil Pangborn, she couldn't stand the barrier he put on her career.

"Maybe you could go into a different line of work. I always thought police work was too dangerous, you could be shot or killed." Jocelyn had cautioned Clare over and over again. This was a speech known very well to her. She'd only heard it for the hundredth time.

"Different line of work? Like what, work with Jonathan in a boring law firm? Or teach at the police academy? I love my job, Mom, I help people." She argued back. Jocelyn continued voicing her opinion, Clare continued ignoring her. This was nothing out of the ordinary.

"When can I expect my clothes?" Jocelyn began to murmur about postal traffic, rather unconvincingly. "If at all?"

They spent the next two hours taking turns yelling at each other. Jocelyn telling her to come home and that she was just being ridiculous, that she needs to come home while Emil would still take her back. The other side of the conversation was Clare telling her how she didn't just want to be another cop on the freeway, directing traffic jams or filing paperwork for actual detectives.

"Clarissa, I'm done listening to your temper tantrum. You were perfectly happy here your whole life, you'd never shown any interest in becoming a policewoman before…" Jocelyn trailed away, she didn't need to finish her sentence for Clare to know what she was talking about.

"It's not a tantrum, I wasn't happy for a long time after what happened and we both know that. When I enrolled into the academy I finally had a purpose again." They talked, they yelled, Jocelyn refused to send anything to New York.

The next time Clare looked at the clock it was two in the morning. Her mother was still refusing to send her her things unless she agreed to come home, permanently. That made no sense to Clare, why would she need to have her things sent here if she was going to go home? Finally she told her mother that she would just buy new clothes. They weren't her favorite anyways. Clare went to sleep soon after she hung up the phone on an unwilling Jocelyn. Listening to her mother complain? Perfect thing to set her to a restless sleep.

Clare woke to a bright light being shined in her eyes. She was getting ready to scream at the jackass with the flashlight, until she realized it was the actual sun. Screw off, Apollo. She rolled to hide her face in the covers, but met the wonderful feel of the floor instead. Groaning, she stood on tired legs. She didn't want to get up. If she got up that would mean she would have to move, and buy furniture, organize her meager belongings, and then she would have to go out again and buy necessities. Like food and clothes. Apparently she forgot that too the other day.

Finally she would have to, if she had time, swing by and renew her gun permit. She practically lived at the shooting range back in London. Reminding herself of the shooting range, she decided that she also had to find and register at a range near here. Clare shakily ran her hands through her tangled auburn hair, before walking over to the adjacent kitchen, where she found a note left by Maia.

Jordan and I went to lunch. You could have come but you wouldn't wake up, so…

We'll be back by 6p.m. to help you move. Have I mentioned I hate you?

Maia

Clare smiled at herself. Maybe she could rearrange her to do list to be able to go out and buy furniture and have it delivered. She still had four hours until Maia and Jordan were supposed to be back, and Clare highly doubted they were having 'lunch' for four hours. She guessed it was just the natural order of things, couples need alone time. Considering she still smelled like alcohol and male BO, Clare took a long awaited shower.

After her exaggerated shower she dressed in dark washed, high waisted jeans and a green sweatshirt. She wore the same angel soft brown boots, clutching her black leather jacket tightly around her as she exited the building. Secretly hoping that she finds a time machine and travels a week in the future so she can start working. She hated sitting around, hated the neverending silence when her mind wasn't focused on outsmarting a criminal. It wasn't natural for someone to spend so much time alone. Clare walked to the furniture store she'd seen earlier.

The shop was tucked in between a small restaurant and the open street, traffic whizzing by. It resembled more of a warehouse than a proper english shop one would see in London. Clare felt more than a little alienated by her new surroundings, but she pushed herself to adapt. Change is good, she reminded herself. After wandering around the massive inside, she picked out a black leather couch and contrasting white chairs. She also picked out a glass coffee table, a light blue dresser, and a queen sized bed. Was it a waste of money to pay extra for matte paint? Eh.

Handing the cashier her credit card and filling out the paperwork for delivery, Clare braved the short journey without a cab.

Her next stop was an interior design studio. Clare couldn't remember the last time she'd bought anything for a house. Even in London her mother wouldn't hear of her moving out, it probably explained why she was so uptight about her moving all the way out here. She mainly went in for the kitchen appliances, but ended the trip with getting curtains and a gorgeous purple victorian looking bedspread and a towel and bathroom set.

She then made a quick stop by the grocery store. She didn't feel like stocking the whole kitchen or the rest of the apartment until her paychecks started coming in so she just bought the most necessary of things, mostly quick foods she could cook in five minutes or eat on the go. She really wanted to buy a coffee maker, especially the pure white Keurig one that was simply calling to her, but the more she thought about how busy she would become with her caseload, the more she decided it was a better idea to buy coffee every morning.

The foot traffic around her had considerably slowed, people yelling profanities when she bumped into them. After attempting to carry dozens of bags down the street, Clare admitted defeat and hailed a taxi. She spent half an hour transporting everything upstairs, setting the contents of the bags in the refrigerator and the rest on the top counters. Clare was reaching for the coffee ice cream when she realized that the bags on her living room floor were waiting.

She ended up hitting herself with a metal bar in attempt to put on the curtains, but eventually succeeded.

Finishing her careful arrangement of the closet, Clare collapsed into a corner. Completely flabbergasted at how little she'd really brought with her. Half the space was empty, waiting to swallow up more colored fabrics. The most frilly and prestigious thing she owned was a knee length dress, midnight blue satin, and a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was beautifully embroidered with pearl white beads from rice sized to orange slices. Clare wasn't exactly sure where she would wear such a thing, it was an impulse purchase. Something her credit card decided she needed.

The furniture would be delivered later that night, and she really wanted to go back and buy a bookcase- but her books, along with half of her possessions- were back in England. She was more angry at her mother about refusing to send her books to her than the clothes. It was a well built collection since her first children's book to her latest John Green.

When Clare moved to New York she'd paid the ridiculous amount at the airport for two extra suitcases. One of which was now hanging in her closet. Maia and Jordan would be coming over from their apartment with her remaining suitcases at any minute, and she should probably wait to let them into the building. Yet she couldn't sit still, not for a moment. She grabbed the thick green blanket and drew it over her shoulders and stepped out onto the balcony.

Her bare feet hit the cemented flooring of her balcony, the air blew her hair away from her face. Red tendrils billowed around her pale features, the only streak in her monotone wardrobe was her eyes. The sounds of New York greeted her. The rushing of yellow taxis, accompanied with the cigar rusted shouts of angry men. The occasional wail of a baby, the random holler of a businessman. The city that never slept growing darker yet brighter at the same time, the dark blue of the night hidden by the fluorescent glows of street lamps and headlights.

Her heart hurt, staring up at the clouded sky, memories of driving a couple of miles away from the city back home just to sit on the roof alone, staring up at the tapestry of the sky. The twinkling stars a silvery paint splashed across a deep blue canvas, one she could stare at for hours at time. Now all she saw was smoke. Knowing this would soon be the only sky she knew, she shut her eyes against the intruder, hoping this would never be the sky she remembered for eternity.

The more she stared at the endless rush of people, the slower time became for her. An onslaught of noise travelled towards her, drifting around her on impact. Even with the distance, she thought she could see Maia and Jordan walking up the street, but just when she stood up to get a better look at them, a loud crash sounded around her. Quickly jumping through the balcony door and slamming it shut behind her, Clare looked around wildly for the intruder. She didn't have the best history when it came to break ins. Then, a shattering burst through the apartment, followed by a loud chorus of shouts and curses, sounding from next door. Slumping her shoulders in relief, she sighed as the yelling grew louder. This is what the agent meant by arguing.

Calmly walking to her kitchen, Clare pulled out a cup of yogurt, followed by a spoon. She sprung onto the counter, wiggling her feet in the air, slowly eating the cup. She shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation next door. She made out quite a few words, most of which were along the lines of 'psycho bitch' and 'self serving jackass'. Clare was more than a little entertained at the lover's spat. After half an hour, she wanted to break it up, but the lack of a badge cursed her existence once again.

Clare spurged on herself and finished her third yogurt, licking the remainder off the edges of the spoon, she threw it into the sink. "I should have pursued a career in basketball." She mutters to herself. Hopping off the counter, she glanced at her watch, signing after realizing it's already eight o'clock. Maia and Jordan still weren't here, and the yelling had only progressed. Pulling out her phone, Clare was ready to have a cow and a pig, and a small southern farm because of her friends tardiness.

There was a symphony of knocks from her front door. If this was the police it definitely wouldn't be the best way to meet the possible co-workers. Clare was stripping the blanket from her shoulders when the knock came again, louder and more aggressive. Calling for a moment, she hurried towards the door.

"Can I help...you?" Clare stopped short, her sentence ending when she met the shocked face of one Jace Herondale. He was staring at her with those intense, bronze eyes. He stood tall, hair mussed and cheeks flushed from annoyance. Yet the anger faded from his eyes the second he saw her. Oh god, the lighting of the club hadn't done him justice.

She spoke slowly, attempting to clear the fog from her mind. "Okay…" She trailed off, maybe bluntness was the best way to get this over with. "Serious question, are you a serial killer waiting for me to let my guard down and then murder and eat me?"

He smirked at her nearly closed door and raised a gold stitched eyebrow. "If I was, I don't think I would knock." She managed a small laugh before sobering up.

"What are you doing here?" Clare questioned, raising her eyebrows. Jace ran his fingers through his hair, looking awkward yet somehow handsome. Okay, that's not at all fair.

"I'm actually your neighbor, I knew somebody new moved in and I thought I should apologize about all noise." He leaned against the doorframe, forcing her to open it wider.

"I was wondering about that." Clare grinned at his shamefully hung face. "Who got murdered?" She motioned towards his front door with her hand.

He scoffed. "Me, if I hadn't gotten out of there." He eyed the empty living space behind her. "Where's all your furniture?"

"I'm having my furniture delivered in twenty or so minutes, but my friends are taking forever to get here and help. And by help, I mean drink all the alcohol in a two mile radius while I pull and push everything into it's proper place." As if on a timer, Clare heard the moving truck pull up and the buzzer from down stairs signaling her to open the door for them. Sighing, she started to edge past Jace, yet he quickly stepped in front of her, grabbing her arm.

"Let me help." He said easily, not really giving her a choice. Oh hell, what could go wrong? it was late and she was tired.

"I suppose I could get on board with a little help from an abercrombie model." Jace shook his head with laughter before throwing a smirk towards her. She began walking down the stairs before he pulled her arm again. She glanced back at him, curiosity morphing her face.

"Why don't you stay up here and tell them how to position everything." Jace offered. Clare raised her brows, crossing her arms defiantly against her chest.

"I am perfectly capable of lifting some furniture- I'm not made of porcelain." Clare argued.

Jace chuckled lazily. "I have no doubt of your abilities. But I highly doubt you would want a sofa in your kitchen or a tv in your bathtub. So stay up here, and I'll help with the furniture. Okay?"

"Understood, my lord." Clare sighed, feeling slightly lethargic. He was running down the stairs before the words were completely out of her mouth. "Thank you!" She didn't know if he heard her, but she felt better knowing that she didn't have to do it alone. Dialing Maia as the first piece of furniture started to emerge up the stairs, she made a face at the voicemail tone.

"Hey Maia, it's Clare. I was just wondering where you are and if you'll be able to make it. If not," She cut herself off as Jace came in carrying a giant couch cushion and smiled, "I found someone else to help. Call me." Clare slipped the phone back into her pocket. "I see you're doing all the heavy lifting," she motioned towards the pillow.

After hours of watching either the workers or Jace helping them move her newly acquired belongings about. The works left the, now homey, apartment at 11:00, they both collapsed on the leather couch. They sat there, sweat sliding down their heated bodies, breathing harshly. At some point Clare had given him a cool water bottle, which he had immediately downed. They laid on the cushions before sliding down to the colder ground. Clare couldn't remember whose brilliant idea that was but the hardwood panelling iced her back slowly.

Although being a cop kept her in shape, she hadn't known that moving a bed frame was so much hard work. Jace began to whisper to her, like his voice might rip out his vocal cords if he raised it anymore.

They answered questions about family and friends, steering clear of emotional things, like why Jace was here rather than cleaning broken vases with his girlfriend. Maybe it was better for Clare not to ask, not to pester him about something he was clearly trying to avoid. Then again her hormonal wild side whispered unnerving things, feeding her subconscious treacherous ideas.

You're alone, it hissed in the dark corners of her mind. No one would have to know what happens in this room.

She flinched when Jace shook her shoulder lightly. "Hey, you getting tired?" She turned her head towards him, peering behind long waves of red.

"Yeah, all that magisterial pointing really wore me out." He smirked at her. Did he ever genuinely smile?

Her eyelids drifted down. Becoming heavier after every attempt at opening her eyes. There was a practical stranger in her apartment, laying on the floor with her; she's about to go to sleep next to him? He could really be a murderer, or a thief. Well, at least he helped move everything he was planning to steal upstairs for her.

When her eyes opened again, she glanced at her watch, it was one in the morning and still, no sigh on Maia and Jordan. On the bright side, Jace was snoozing right next to her and she hadn't woken tied to a chair or without furniture. And it had only taken four, unbearably long hours.

She sat up from the floor, grunting when she felt a knot on her neck. Jaces eyes fluttered open and squinted up at her.

"You look sweaty and ridiculous." Clare stated, eyeing the dark golden hair pasted along Jace's neck. Okay, maybe not totally ridiculous.

Jace groaned as he stretched out his sore muscles. "Oh, I look ridiculous? Take a look in the mirror, you look like a poodle had a love affair with an afro." She smacks his arm.

Knowing the mess that was her bedhead, Clare didn't even bother trying to deny the allegation. Instead she turned it back on him. "At least I'm not as impatient as you!" Clare defended. They once again moved to the couch, comfortable lounging. Jace mimicked a hurt expression, she gave him an unbelieving expression, dropping her head into his lap and looking up at his face. He was looking down at her.

"I'm not impatient." Jace's full lips turned into a pouting frown and she laughed at his attempt to look innocent. It didn't work.

"Really?" She raised both brows before lowering her voice. "'Come on, Clare, show them where to put the damn couch! I can feel my arms melting', 'Jesus, Clare, you move slower than a three legged dog on cocaine.' What does that even mean?" She mimicked his innocent pout. Jace scoffed indignantly, grabbing a pillow and holding it above her.

"I could easily suffocate you with this disgusting, embroidered, plump throw pillow." Clare knocked the pillow out of his hovering hands. He let it fly across the room easily.

"You know so much about throw pillows, should I be worried that you're a woman?" He shook his golden head with a smirk plastered across his face. Did he live in a world where that was considered a _good_ smile?

"I'm all man _darling_, trust me. Or you could always find out yourself." He said suggestively, shifting underneath her with a slight smirk on his lips. Clare rolled her eyes, ignoring the tensing of her muscles at the words.

"I think I'll pass,_ love_." He sneered at her choice of endearment. This was all good natured fun, right?

"I don't think I've met a girl yet who can resist this." He retorted defensively.

"I could think of at least one person in this room alone that could resist that,"Clare gestured at him "much woman." He mocked hurt and placed one hand over his heart and the other over his agape mouth.

"How you insult me, Clare Fairchild!" She tried to pat his cheek condescendingly, but he jerked away dramatically. "No, I can't! How can someone so manly be accused of being a woman?" She couldn't help but laugh at his precious ego wound.

"Alright, I relent. I'm sorry, you're the manliest man known to mankind! You invented stripclubs, scotch, and cuban cigars. Happy?" His features morphed into a genuine grin.

"Ecstatic." Clares laughter died away finally, and she found herself staring up at Jace, hyper aware of the fact her head was still in his lap, of the look on Jace's face and the slight tensing of his biceps. Suddenly she wasn't sure if she should be so close to him, but a voice cut through the apartment before she could move away.

"Well, don't you two look comfy?" Clare jumped off Jace's lap in lightning speed and spun back around to face the voice at the door. It was Maia. She was leaning against the closed door with her arms crossed. "Someone left the front door open and you didn't lock this one. Jordan is coming up with your suitcases- but we could leave if that'll make you two love birds happy." Maia trails off, eyebrow raised. Ignoring her probably burning face, Clare smiled and hugged Maia quickly.

"Maia this is Jace, my neighbor. Jace, this is Maia, she used to be my flatmate in college and was housing me for a while after I moved here." Maia waved with two fingers, a mock salute, eyeing him up and down.

"Actually we know each other through work. Didn't you walk off with Clare last night?" she questions.

"Yeah, this creep was hitting on her and I thought I'd try to help." Jace said with a shrug. Maia nodded, slightly condescendingly before plopping into a white chair.

"By the way, I'm sorry Jordan and I didn't show up earlier. We got- um, sidetracked." Clare shrugged it off, pretending not to notice the maroon spreading across her olive cheeks.

"It's fine, Jace and I managed."

The sound of the doorknob clicking drew Maia's attention. "There he is." Jordan comes inside, struggling with several different suitcases. He drops them on the doorway with a huff, glaring toward Maia and Clare with pretty green eyes.

"No thanks guys, I don't need any help." He said sarcastically, throwing his hands up. Maia sighed at his theatrics.

"Jace, this is Jordan. My oh so dramatic boyfriend." She muttered, yet still smiling up at him. Puppy love- bloody disgusting.

"This was sufficiently awkward." Jace announced, standing up and walking over to the doorway. He stopped in front of Clare, smirking his lazy half smile. Jace grabbed her hand and planted a soft kiss along her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers. "I'll see you around, Clare." He stepped out of her flat and into his own. She watched the door for a bit, feeling jittery at the lingering feeling of his lips on her skin. Jordan's deep voice interrupted her.

"Well, well, well. In the big apple for less than a day and you're already meeting boys. As your parents, we cannot support this horrifying thought." Jordan and Maia were smiling wildly at her, actually looking like embarrassing parents who tell corny jokes and make terrible pancakes. Then again, that's who they'll probably end up being in a couple of years. They had started dating the first month of college. Maia was now 23 and Jordan was 24. Five years is a long time to be together. Clare was wondering when Jordan, if at all, would propose. He'd better, otherwise Clare would propose for him. No one messed with her Life-TP.

"What's that thing you Americans say? That's right, shut up mom." Clare faked a horrible american accent, causing Jordan and Maia's indignation and bald eagles up their arses to flare. Ah, here comes the American Revolution- part 2. She'd really done it now.

* * *

**_Guess who has decided to traumatize themselves by watching the Harry Potter movies all over again?_**

**_Guess who wishes they had enough time to also read the books?_**

**_Final question, guess who still isn't over, and will probably never be over, the fact that there's only one twin left?_**

**_I also just bought the entire soundtrack so even after the movies I'll be crying for days._**

**_Also, while on the subject, who would want to read a Harry Potter fanfiction from me?_**

**_^.^_**

**_Self promotion- follow me on instagram, myowndarkness (I'm one of those weird fandom accounts so why not?)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments, if I did I would be laying on a beach somewhere enjoying life. I only screw around with Cassie's fantastic characters. Do NOT steal my story plots. I will shut you down, trust me I've done it before.**_

_**Jace P.O.V.**_

Jace lay stretched out on his bed, alone. Kaelie had gotten that ten foot pole up her ass again. Last night she had yelled and broken dishes. Even the expensive set she had forced him to buy when she had first moved in. Jace scoffed to himself at the thought; she didn't officially live here, but with the way she acted you'd think so. Her clothes and shoes were lining his closets, her make up littered his bathroom counter, and her heavy scented perfume drowned his bedsheets regardless of how many times he'd washed it.

After all the fighting they'd done, every argument had began to melt together. He didn't even know why she was angry this time around. This time they had been fighting for the worse part of forty minutes, until eventually Jace had turned around and left before he got stabbed with a fake nail or suffocated with her hairspray.

He had yelled back, something that just fed her anger and didn't make him proud. Jace remembered hearing the neighboring door close and open for the first time in a week, the sign of a new tenant finally moving in. He cringed at the thought of whoever it was realizing just exactly how loud their new neighbors could be. He could still envision the first time the police showed up at his door, a parting gift from Mr Malone. He didn't want a repeat performance.

It was better for him to apologize early on to the new neighbor, while they would still listen to his excuses. It wouldn't take long for them to realize that the noise wouldn't stop.

Taking a deep breath and fixing his face into an apologetic expression, Jace prays this neighbor isn't another grouchy old man. And as the door swings open and reveals the auburn curls and pixie face from last night, he realized they're anything but.

"Can I help...you?" Clare trails off, eyes flying wide as she stares up into his own surprised face. Jace had thought she was pretty underneath the colored lights flashing in the club, those eyes hadn't been done justice.

"Can I help...you? Okay… Serious question, are you a serial killer waiting for me to let my guard down and then murder and eat me?"

Jace paused before answering, replying as seriously as he can. "If I was, I don't think I would knock."

She narrowed her eyes up at him. "What are you doing here?"

Reaching to tug absentmindedly at his hair, Jace phrased his words carefully. "I'm actually your neighbor, I knew somebody new moved in and I thought I should apologize about all noise."

Her laugh was light. "I was wondering about that. Who got murdered?"

"Me, if I hadn't gotten out of there," He paused, looking over her short head into the clean, empty apartment. "Where's all your furniture?"

"I'm having my furniture delivered in twenty or so minutes, but my friends are taking forever to get here and help. And by help, I mean drink all the alcohol in a two mile radius while I pull and push everything into it's proper place."

Driven by the sudden urge to escape the wrath of an angry Kaelie and maybe get to know the british girl better, Jace responded, "Let me help."

"I suppose I could get on board with a little help from an abercrombie model." Jace paused at that, catching the lilt in her tone and the slight widening of her eyes. Something told him she hadn't exactly meant to say that. Should he tell her he had a girlfriend?

"Why don't you stay up here and tell them how to position everything." Jace offered, attempting to make his way into the apartment. She stopped him, crossing her arms defiantly and glaring up at him. He would have thought she was intimidating if she wasn't as tall as a twelve year old.

"I am perfectly capable of lifting some furniture- I'm not made of porcelain." She argued, lifting her chin.

Jace hurried to reassure her. "I have no doubt of your abilities. But I highly doubt you would want a sofa in your kitchen or a tv in your bathtub. So stay up here and tell the movers where you want everything, and I'll help with the furniture. Okay?"

"Understood, my lord. Thank you!" She finally let him into the apartment, and Jace couldn't stop breathing out a sigh of relief. Finally, a reprieve from the hurricane with hair extensions.

~.o.O.o.~

Four hours later, Jace can't stop from smiling to himself. Now not only did he have a fairly interesting, british neighbor, it had been the perfect excuse to let Kaelie either get her shit together or fall asleep. Or pass out drunk, Jace didn't really have a preference at this point.

When he'd gotten home, sweat sticking to his clothes and a growing trepidation as he peeked into the darkened bedroom, he let out a silent breath of relief. After taking a shower to rid of the sweat clinging to his skin, Jace dragged his sore muscles underneath the thick blanket and collapsed against the pillow, not bothering to hug Kaelie to his chest. He was too cold for anything right now. Stretching out the stiffness in his muscles, Jace let out a groan of relief, only to clap a hand over his mouth as he heard the tell tale signs of Kaelie stirring in her sleep. Jace froze, hoping she wouldn't wake. She did.

"Well now," Her voice wasn't even drowsy with sleep, and Jace had a sneaking suspicion she had been waiting for him to come home. "Look who finally crawled into bed." Even in the darkness, Jace could clearly make out the scowl, twisting her bare face that could really use some makeup, a thought Jace wasn't used to having about anyone. "Where were you?"

Before Jace can even respond, Kaelie jumps out of bed, turning on the dim lamp light and crossing her arms against her chest. She's fuming, her expression so enraged it was a comical contrast to her barely their silky nightgown. Yet Jace felt absolutely no desire that would usually run through him at the sight of her bare skin. It had been way too long for that. Plus, the angry tirade that had already begun wasn't helping.

"Why can't you just tell me her name Jace? I know you're screwing around with someone else, it's so obvious. But I don't understand why you can't just tell me!" Her voice is climbing higher, scraping out any fatigue that had already settled in his mind.

"I don't even know what the hell you're talking about anymore! I work late, you say I'm sleeping with a hooker. I go out to a bar with Alec, I'm seeing my mistress. Why are you convinced that every time I'm not in your sight I'm in some girls bed?!" Kaelie was pacing the floor at this point, probably ignoring Jace's points and thinking of more words to scream at him. Jace couldn't help groaning to himself as he stepped out of bed, already prepared. There would be no sleep found tonight.

They argued in the bedroom until Kaelies pacing took her to the living room. They yelled back and forth as they have done for nights on end, eventually Kaelie reaching her breaking point. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry. Today it was a green flower vase- Jace absentmindedly wondered why they kept buying shatterable things.

"God, I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! You always fuck around!" She screamed, swinging her hands through the bar and knocked over a fruit bowl that shattered on the tiled kitchen floor. Damnit, that was actually pretty expensive. A sob escapes her chest as she clutches at her hair violently, though Jace knew she was probably barely applying pressure- her extensions would fall out. "That's it, I can't do this anymore." Yeah, you aren't alone, He thought tiredly, running a hand through his tangled locks. There was a knock on the door, and Jace walked slowly to give Kaelie time to calm down. He opened the door just as she sped walked back into the bedroom, sniffling all the way.

Clare stood there in a silky black nightgown, poorly covered by a short blue robe. Jace hushed her before she could say anything, trying to keep his eyes from blatantly staring at her. She looked confused but didn't speak, only pulling the robe tighter around her. He turned around to find Kaelie staring at him through the crack in the bedroom door, obviously fuming and ready with more insults- if that was possible. thankfully she couldn't see Clare, or else she would probably throw a clock at 'his newest whore'. Jace really didn't need a lawsuit right now.

"It's the neighbor. They must have heard your tantrum. I'll go and make sure they don't call the police. Again." He slipped through the door and motioned for Clare to go into her apartment. Once they were inside and away from the raging madwoman, he let out a deep breath, sagging against the doorway. He was safe from a hurling wine glass for now.

"What's going on? I've heard two fights in less than twelve hours. I'm worried about you." She was looking down, tightening her grip on the robe and attempting to cover the creamy white skin on display. Jace looked down at himself, realizing all he wore were sweatpants that hung way too low. Shit.

"I'm sorry to announce this is pretty routine. My girlfriend isn't exactly the most trusting of people, so she tends to go on a rampage everytime I'm out late. I'm sorry to have bothered you." She nodded at his meek explanation, her face blushed deep red. Clare still wasn't looking up at him, and he wished he could put on a shirt. Or that he was single.

"It's okay, but I really would appreciate it if you could keep the breaking of glasses to a minimum during the hours of 10p.m. and 6a.m. I do need my beauty sleep. I don't just wake up this gorgeous." Jace laughed at Clares feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

"Alright, sorry again. I promise the breaking is done for tonight. Goodnight, Clare."

She finally meets his eyes, still clutching the robe tight around herself. Jace tries as hard as he possibly can to not let his gaze drop lower than it should be. "Goodnight, Jace."

~.o.O.o.~

**_Clary's P.O.V._**

Screaming.

That was the sound that woke Clare up, her fingers clawing at her heaving throat but only making the sound more shrill. The blackness surrounding her seemed heavy, pressing in until every breath choked out of her lungs was a never ending battle. It took her several moments to struggle out of the sheets that held her tight, shaky legs almost buckling slamming her into the wall. Fumbling with the lightswitch, she turned on the lights and took in her completely empty room, the only sound around her was the dry heaves emitting from her chest. She felt her eyes burn and she slid down the wall to the floor, hiccuping. Folding her legs into her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees, Clare buried her now wet face into her arms as she sat there, gently rocking against the wall.

Clare didn't know how long she stayed slumped against the wall, trying to stop the violent sobs that spill out of her mouth with no signs of slowing. Finally, the alarm clock set to wake her cut through the thick air and the dense fog entrapping her mind. Rising onto her shaky legs, she muted the alarm, unstably she made her way to the bathroom. The piercing white light is a welcomed contrast to the darkness of her bedroom. Deciding on a hot shower, Clare walks into the glassed stall and strips off her nightgown, letting the pumping hot water relax her tense and bowed back, hoping her face was covered with water and not tears.

An hour and a full shower later, Clare was her regular composed self as she stood on the screaming streets of New York and hailed a taxi. A traffic filled ride with a stop at a local coffee shop later, Clare was finally at the precinct.

She stood solemnly in the elevator, she'd been silent all day, not speaking besides the brisk directions to the cabbie. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the elevator and into the open area. She was unnecessarily nervous. Or was it necessary? She took a deep breath and knocked on the Captain's glass door. Hodge opened the door a few moment later, eyes crinkling in a wide smile. He's wearing grey and silver again, looking almost exactly like he did when she first met him.

"Ah, Clare! Good to see you - ah, can you go in the breakroom for a minute? I'll be right there."

"Of course." Clare smiled briskly and retreated into the nearby breakroom. She took a closer look at the room- It was bigger than her first impression. Seating herself on an orange stool, she peered through the frosted glass at the other detectives working on the floor. The sound of two footsteps approach, drawing her presence to the open doorway. A moment later, Hodge came in with another man at his side. He was taller than Hodge, his wide frame demanding attention from the room. His coloring was light, hair platinum white to match his complexion. Pure onyx eyes stand out from his long eyelashes, and they stare right at her. He's stunning, the type of boy you could never dream up. Then he opened his mouth.

His velvety voice is angry, rough with agitation as he twisted his face into a look of disgust. "Hodge, you can't be serious! No way am I going to let you stick me with some teenager who probably can't even load a gun correctly!"

He was no longer attractive.

Okay, maybe slightly, but not if Clare punched his face in. Her fingers were curling tightly against the stool, fighting the urge.

"Oh really? Do you want me to show you just how well I know how to use a gun?" Her voice is cold, a tight, restrained smirk on her lips. He scoffs a little bit, and Clare noticed the amusement filling Hodge's eyes. He was clearly enjoying this.

"Listen, Princess, why don't you go back to fixing your hair and let me handle doing my job? I'd rather you don't twist your ankle on a heel during an assignment." His voice was so demeaning, the gleam in his eyes so irritating that Clare stood up rather violently, knocking the stool to the ground.

"And I'd rather never hear you speak again- so I guess we're both having bad luck. How about when I see a man I can ask him to kick your sexist ass? You know, since I'm too weak to do it." Hodge almost choked, covered it with a stiff cough. He made an excuse that he forgot his coffee cup in his office and that he would be back in a minute. For someone who worked in homicide, Hodge couldn't lie.

"So what's your name, smartass?" The white haired boy began speaking in a slightly sweeter tone now that Hodge has disappeared, his eyes intensely focused on her. Clare slid another upstanding orange stool back to her and sat down, crossing her arms. She schooled her features into a lazy smile, but really she was on a cliff, waiting for the push.

"Clare Fairchild, what about you, superstar?" He looked her up and down, like he was trying to size up his opponent before a fight.

"Sebastian Verlac." He said as the amusement faded from his voice. He moved towards her, towering over her. "I'm not sexist, I just don't think a pretty little british girl made of porcelain can handle dead bodies and guns without crumpling in your pretty little heels."

"Do you not know what sexism is?!" Clare cried, throwing her arms up. She could hear her accent growing thicker like it always did when she would become exasperated. "It means you don't think I can handle everything you can handle just because I'm a woman." The stool legs screamed against the floor as Sebastian brought it in front of him. He sat down, crossing his feet at the ankles.

"What's going on guys?" The boy from the break room before- Alec - poked his head through the door frame, blue eyes a little concerned.

"None of your business-" Clare interrupted Sebastian's harsh response before the unenviable insult is force fed to Alec.

"Hodge was just introducing us. I'm Clare, you must be Alec." He smiled softly, obviously trying to appease the tension, glancing between Clare and Sebastian.

"Yeah, I am. Hodge told me about you, you're the new homicide detective, right?" Clare nodded enthusiastically.

Sebastian answers before Clare can. "Yes she is. Hold your applause. Because guess who got stuck babysitting?" Clare glared at Sebastian. She smacked him in the arm with her bag, having no inhibitions on presenting herself well anymore. "Ow! That hurt." He was rubbing his 'bruised' arm. Clare very much doubted she hit him that hard.

Alec walked to Clare and pressed his hands to her shoulders, lightly shaking her shoulders. "I'm so sorry for you. He's an asshole." Sebastian let out a 'hey' from behind them, but even knowing him for less than five minutes, Clare knew this was probably true. Snorting in agreement, somebody else enters the break room.

"Hey!" Alec dropped his hands and both he and Sebastian turned to the direction of the voice. The last person Clare expected to see strode through the door, only to stop short at the sight of her.

Jace's eyes widen as his gaze landed on her, shock masking his face. Clare couldn't say she felt any less surprised to see him. He attempted to play off his falter, an easy smirk returning to his face as he walked to Clare and settled his hands around hers. Clare is still too surprised to do anything other than stay silent as Jace addressed Sebastian and Alec.

"Are you guys messing with the newbie? Because, trust me, she can take you."

Clare finally managed to get some words out. "I'm the newbie and I second that opinion." Jace looks down at her and smiles slightly, obviously enjoying her probably still blushing face.

Alec eyed them critically, eyes sharp. Yet he still flashed them a smile as he saluted with his coffee mug. "I have some business to take care of, I'll leave you all to it." He left the three of them alone in the break room.

"I'm sure she's terrifying for the elderly and disabled." Sebastian's tone drips with acid, eyeing Jace with an obvious mistrust. "Anyways, don't you have something to do Blondie? I'm busy trying to figure out some way my new partner can be useful." Sebastian's eyes seemed to glow with irritation as he looked up at Jace, and Clare can almost feel the impending showdown about to happen in between the two. Maybe Jace should leave.

"First of all, I don't take orders from you. Second of all, I do have something to do because unlike you I'm actual useful- and so is Clare. So I'm going to do my job while you find new ways to embarrass yourself in front of people and offer up a surprising new range of things to judge you on." Jace retorted, giving Sebastian a look that pretty much said he wouldn't mind if his raging girlfriend threw something at his head. Sebastian looks like he's about to snap, yet Jace didn't give him the chance.

He turned his back on Sebastian and picks up her hand, pressing the soft kiss he did to Clares knuckles. "Come find me later, I think we have some things to discuss." He murmured against her skin, eyes fixated on her. Clare nodded, praying the pink blush would fade soon so she would no longer look like a Raggedy Ann doll.

After Jace leaves, Clare and Sebastian talk for an hour. Well, more like Clare tolerated him and his horrid ego for an hour as he bragged about his past as a homicide detective. Yet every time he opened his mouth, she had the urge to commit homicide herself. He spoke his words with the insufferable arrogance of a boy that had been bred to believe he was perfection by two parents who bought his way through youth, and still being blind enough to believe it after he left home. How has he not been mugged by girl scouts yet?

Hodge finally came back around, deciding the animosity had subsided enough for him to make a grand reappearance. Clare figured he just wanted Sebastian and her to become friends, so there would be some cooperation on assignments. Tough luck buddy, it's not happening any time this century.

Hodge assigned him a mugging gone wrong downtown, and Sebastian had managed to convince Hodge to not let her come with him on it. As she sat there in silent rage listening to him whine and complain. Apparently he didn't want to take a 'newbie' to an open crime scene. He really did believe she was that useless, didn't he? That was a pleasant thought to have on the first day.

Clare walked into the desk area of the homicide floor, relieved to stretch her legs. She spotted Jace slouched in a chair with his legs expanded royally out onto the desk, his pant legs covered with sheets of papers on the mahogany desk, his fingers interlaced behind his short tawny locks. He looked annoyingly good, even rubbing his eyes and glaring at the stacks of forms and files. Alec leaned against the desk, studying a whiteboard covered in green dry erase marker. His palms were pressed tightly against his eyes and he groaned loudly.

"Well you lot seems well." Clare said dryly, leaning against the wall. Alec jerked up in surprise, but relaxed once he saw it was only her. Jace didn't move or open his eyes, but the edges of his lips curled up at the sound of her voice.

"Simply amazing." Jace ground out, cracking an eye open as she approached the desk. "So. You weren't lying when you said you worked in homicide then?"

Clare rolled her eyes. "Of course I wasn't. I just moved from London, this is my first day at the precinct. You never mentioned you worked here, so we're even." She countered, crossing her arms. He chuckled deeply in response, and it bothered Clare how much she liked that sound.

"Okay, if I see one more case file I'm going to vomit all over it. Let's get some coffee." Alec offered. Jace jumped out of his seat and guided Clare back to the break room. She was tempted to reject the offer, considering how much cappuccino she downed attempting to stomach Sebastian's presence. Did these people live in the breakroom?

She followed them anyways, and they all seated themselves at the bar with styrofoam cups. She may have a horrible partner, but at least the coffee here was excellent.

Alec was telling Clare about his boyfriend, Magnus Bane, she vaguely remembered him from Pandemonium as the man who Jace originally sat with. She had noticed them the second she walked into the club, yet didn't have the nerve to say anything. Jace laughed along as Alec told the story of how he sufocated on half glitter in New York when he went in for a kiss.

However the smirk fell off of Jace's face the second the sound of heels clicking against title reached his ears. Alec suppressed a groan as his eyes focused on the doorway behind Clare, taking a sip of coffee to hold it back. She turned slowly, expecting some form of demon to be standing there and causing the obvious dread on Jace's face. Or worse, someone from corporate. But all that's there was a pretty, young woman leaning against the door frame, slim arms crossed. Seriously, what is it with New Yorkers and leaning against doors like they owned the place?

Her petite frame was covered in a charcoal gray pencil skirt that outline each and every one of her curves, the white blouse maybe unbuttoned a little too low and framed by her perfectly curled blonde hair. Her blue eyes, perfect, her body, perfect. Everything about this woman was perfect, straight out of a magazine. Clare couldn't help but feel jealously run through her like a butter knife- that is until the woman's angry and slightly pitchy voice rung through the room.

"So this is her? The woman you've been two timing me with? Oh, Jace Herondale, you have no rock bottom, do you?" Her voice is filled with disgust, confusing Clare more than the disgusted glare she fixed her with.

"Sorry? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Clare was baffled, even as she saw Jace quietly roll his eyes and let out a sigh in her peripheral. Did an unknown woman just accuse her of sleeping with Jace? Well, she guess she's not one hundred percent unknown. Clare's mind immediately went to the realization she was probably Jace's needy, vase throwing girlfriend. Jace's face was a blank slate as he stared at the pretty blonde, obviously not in the mood to defend himself anymore.

An outraged gasp puffed out of her, the chest movement probably a little too pronounced. "Now you're lying to my face? Oh, how stupid do you think I am?" Clare opens her mouth to respond, only to be cut off once again. "Well obviously you think I'm an absolute idiot if you thought you could get away with this!" The blonde's voice had almost reached a screech, hands fisted so hard she almost expected the long painted acrylics to draw blood. Clare was absolutely, utterly baffled.

"Look, I don't know who you are, and I don't know who you think I am, but I am certainly not sleeping with Jace." Alec basically shoved his fist in his mouth to keep from saying anything. Jace still retained that blank stare. The woman's stride was confident as she walked closer to her. She was miraculously shorter than Clare, only reaching her height with the help of expensive looking black pumps. The overwhelming scent of vanilla perfume almost made Clare choke.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that. Not today. I'm not in the best place right now and I really don't need some lying bitch sleeping with my boyfriend."

Oh, this bitch did not.

Clare could feel her blood boiling, the temperature rising along with the urge to knock in one of her way too whitened teeth. "Oh my God, what the hell are you on?" Clare yells back, temper snapping. "If you're this needy with your boyfriend and skeptical of every single girl Jace talks to, have you ever considered maybe you and your jealousy issues are the actual problem?" Clare could feel her voice rising to a yell and her knuckles clenching, the temptation to rip out those ironed curls building.

The women's sharp teeth pierced her bottom lip and she smiled. Her hand, which had previously been braced on the table, moved a couple of inches to the right. Next thing Clare is aware of is the burn of the hot coffee spilling on the floor and all over her waist. A hiss escapes her lips as she doubles over, clutching her abdomen in pain. Oh god, this bitch is crazy. Actually in need of a mental facility.

Getting ready to rise and right hook the whore in the jaw, the only thing that stops an all out brawl is Jace jumping between the two women.

"What the fuck Kaelie?!" He shouts, throwing hands up to block her from swinging. "Alright, you need to leave." He grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and practically dragged the yelling girl out of the break room.

Clare wanted to rip off the burning blouse, clenching her teeth hard to keep from crying out in pain. Alec sighed and helped Clare, wrapping a hand around her waist and helping her out of the break room. He lead her down a hall to a room, which turned out to be a locker room.

"Oh God, does it burn?" Alec asked anxiously, the worry of Kaelie and Jace's disappearance and her episode clear on his face. Clare's mind wandered to the blonde haired bitch and Jace's mysterious disappearance with her.

"No, of course not! I find the melting flesh scent quite charming!" Clare knew that it wasn't even remotely Alec's fault, but sarcasm was her natural defense. She started to unbutton the small white buttons on the blouse. Alec's face flushed as he turned around to face the door. "Do you think I could find something to wear that's not soaked with resentment?"

There was a light chuckle from behind her and Clare turned expecting Alec, instead finding a sheepish looking Jace. Where had Alec disappeared to? She turned sharply, trying to cover herself, but her pale skin was turning a dark pink that refused to let her twist. She gingerly touched the skin and flinched back, biting down on her scream.

"Oh hey, hey. Let me see." He tried to turn her, but she reared back, closing the blouse over her black bra. Jace rolled his eyes. "It's fine Clare. Stop it. Let me." He grabbed her arms firmly, pulling them away from her protective form.

"I'm so sorry about her. She isn't usually like that." Her mind jumped back to the last time someone had repeated the gesture, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. She tried to tear her wrists from Jace's grasp, legs kicking out wildly. Quickly releasing her, Jace stepped back a bit with concern flashing in his eyes. It faded into stinging sympathy and curiosity that burned Clare deeper than the coffee.

"Whoa. You look like I was about to hit you. It must burn very badly." Jace was looking down at her chest. At first Clare was concerned that he was checking her out, and wanted to hold the dripping apart blouse pieces to her skin. It took her longer than she would have cared to admit to realize that he was looking at the burn.

Jaced fussed over her, whispering curses and apologies. Who would have thought that coffee could do so much damage?

~.o.O.o.~

Clare came home two hours before midnight. Jace had forced her to go to a clinic and buy something for the burn, though they weren't serious. There wouldn't be any scars or long lasting redness, but it would be there for at most a month.

As Clare laid on her back staring at the darkened ceiling, she could only think of what the hell had happened back at the precinct. One minute she was enjoying talking to her new friends and the next she was half naked in front of her co workers. Clare guessed that happened to a lot of other women, but not with the whole burnt skin situation going on.

The fact that Jace had paid no attention to her other than the close examination of her burn was a hit to her self esteem. Clare knew she wasn't gorgeous like the blonde, but she was half naked for god's sake! She may not have been throwing herself at him, but it stung when he didn't even check her out. Not even once. Honestly, Clare didn't know how she would have reacted if he had made a move. She missed getting some, dammit.

She laughed at the sudden thought. To anyone Clare would look like an insane person laughing alone on a couch. Technically that would be accurate. For a moment Clare considered knocking on Jace's door in her thin, silk nightgown, just to see his reaction.

"Oh God. I need a cold shower." Clare grumbled, flinching as she stood up. Oh, her stomach still burned like a bitch. Her descent into the bathroom was followed by a series of 'ow's and 'shit's and the occasional bloody hell when she was feeling extra british and pissed off. The queen should be proud.

Her attempt for a shower was quickly cut off when the icy water hit her skin, followed by several more yelps of pain. Stumbling out of the shower with none of her usual grace, she wrapped herself in a towel, grumbling, "Never again."

Clare spent the rest of her night on the couch reading, laying as still as she can to prevent antagonizing the burn. If it wasn't for the ever so present breaking glass thanks to Jace and the psycho bitch he called a girlfriend from across the hall it would have been peaceful. Checking her wristwatch, Clare huffed out an exasperated breath. It was now midnight and the yelling hadn't stopped or even quieted down. Don't these people need bathroom breaks? Stop to watch some TV? Eh, they've probably broken it by now.

* * *

**_I think fanfic is the only positive thing going for me right now and I'm not even good at it. My friends are blatantly ignoring me, my job is a joke, and if I feel anymore alone I'll be in the movie '127 Hours' and actually end the torture the way he did._**

**_Real talk guys, you know when someone touches your favorite book and bends a page or rips the cover and you imagine exactly how painfully you're going to kill them and dispose of their body? I'm feeling that right now, except it's not for my book, it's for my person. MY FAVORITE PERSON. Don't step on my toes, my wife is a part of my toes. Actually she's my favorite toe. My favorite talented, beautiful, funny, and brilliant toe._**

**_Also, honey, I'm sorry that I compared you to a toe._**

**_This ones for Rohini and Maddie, thanks guys_**

**_P.S. I am so damn sick of Pottermore telling me I'm a Gryffindor in every sorting and school. I IDENTIFY MORE WITH SLYTHERIN. STOP._**

**_PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**For **__**Creativedesigns, Sunshinekacy, and Rohini, thank you for believing in me.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments, I just grew up playing with dolls and this is the end result. I do, however, own the ridiculous plot of this fanfiction so think of your own and let me know if you see someone using my ideas.**_

_**Chapter 4**_

_**One Month Later**_

It took all of Clare's self control to keep the bile down. When she'd gotten the call this morning, she actually had a fair amount of restraint. The pictures Sebastian kept sending didn't help that cause, and Clare had a sneaking suspicion he was doing it on purpose. Sebastian was a horrible partner. Although the animosity had faded away with the time they spent together, their somewhat dysfunctional pattern of understanding was still peppered with moments where she considered trying out her new gun. On his head.

Though vodka helped. Sebastian and Clare bounded over an undisclosed amount of alcohol every Friday night, then Seb would get hammered and proceed to make creepy sexual advances that Clare longed to tape and send to a supervisor. Clare usually had to drag him to a cab before he made a total idiot of himself. Not that she wouldn't enjoy the show- but as it happens, seeing your partner half naked on a table leaves you with unwanted memories.

Clare had been trying not to vomit since she'd arrived at the scene. An unaffected Jace was standing next to her, glancing over occasionally to make sure she didn't spew chunks everywhere. He'd been increasingly attached to Clare and Sebastian's caseload since Alec went on vacation with Magnus. She knew without Alec, Jace was stuck with his Satanic girlfriend and no time away. She attempted to invite him out with her and Maia, but he'd declined. She knew why he'd said no. The girl would probably have had an aneurysm.

"Homicide?" Her gaze wasn't fixed on anybody, but she still noticed the poisonous look Jace and Sebastian exchanged, locked in a silent battle to answer her question. Boys, always competing.

"All visible signs point to it. Come on." Jace led her towards what Clare presumed to be the bathroom. Two men covered in white hazmat suits knelt in front of the tub, taking pictures for the casefile. The closer Clare inched forward, the more her stomach clenched at what she knew was inside. "We need to take a look around, do you mind giving us a few minutes?"

They didn't look happy at Jace's request, but they didn't argue as they picked up their clipboards and cameras, walking out to go consult with the medical examiner. Clare reached inside her back pocket; no way was she touching anything in this bathroom without latex.

The gloves snapped against her wrists as she stepped along the marble flooring to the bathtub. The layers of packing tape tore off the edges, tearing the trash bag covering the tub, revealing the maroon liquid inside. Clare used the back of her hand to stifle the cry. A disjointed leg floated to the top of the acidic solution, a strong scent of bleach and ammonia wafting throughout the small room, and clinging to her nostrils.

"Bleach and ammonia give off toxic vapors, should we be in here with the door and windows closed?" Clare muttered, her eyes tracing the indentations on a resurfacing hand. It was bobbing, like a carnival apple. She made a mental note to never bob for apples again. The tips of the fingers were charred and blackened, Clare scratched out the detail on her notepad. The smell made her thankful that she had decided against breakfast, although her coffee was thinking of making a reappearance.

Placing the pad and pen on the sink's edge, Clare tied her hair back into a loose ponytail. Red tendrils raining around her face.

"It's probably not the best idea, but then again when do I ever do anything other than the worst possible thing?" Clare wasn't looking at him, but she already knew the cocky smirk that would no doubt be painted on his face. "I have to close the door, or you can't see this." He stepped away from the door, giving Clare a clear view of the white painted wood. Instead of answering the obvious question in her expression, he just flips off the lights.

"Jace? What are you doing?" She squints at his darker outline, hearing the jingle of his keys. Honey colored light drifting softly from the window. "If you're planning on stabbing me with a rusty key, it's not best when we're in a building surrounded by detectives."

His only response was a chuckle, right before Clare hears a soft click and a pale blue beam bathes the door in light. Underneath the blacklight, Clare stepped back in surprise.

White luminescent words revealed themselves, dripping along the wall like white blood. Covered across the door in a crudely messy manor, it almost felt mocking, teasing Clare's brain with no doubt a hidden meaning behind those words.

"'Payment for your guilt'- what the hell does that mean?" Clare questioned, looking over as Jace switched off the black light and put it back into the side duffel bag he toted. He opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by Clare's coughing fit. She attempted to cover it with her hand averting her eyes that watered from the sting of the chemicals hanging in the air. Jace just rolled his eyes at her pathetic attempt to play it off, quickly winding an arm around her waist and guiding her arm around his neck. Though she still tried to seem alright, Clare was already leaning heavily into his side. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I've never gotten an offer to be on the bachelor." Sarcasm bled through his words, and Clare decided she wasn't weak enough to smack him upside the head.

So she did.

When they stumble out of the bathroom, Sebastian's' eyes immediately caught sight of Clare and he made a beeline towards her. "What happened?" He demanded from Jace, though his eyes never drifted from Clare's slumped form.

The annoyance in Jace's voice was practically tangible. "She inhaled too many fumes."

_I'm also right here._

"Guys, I'm f-" Clare was cut off when another round of violent coughs racked her body, her hand squeezing Jace's shoulder tightly for support.

"Obviously." Both Sebastian and Jace chorused in unison, also shooting each other angry glances at the same time. That must qualify them for some sort of bizarre circus act. A mental picture of Jace and Seb in matching leotards made Clare want to laugh, but with her current throat cancer of a cough, it probably wasn't a good idea. Though only Sebastian spoke next.

"This is your fault, you know. We have facemasks for a reason." Sebastian was fuming at Jace, and Clare didn't miss the twitch of his fist before he began reaching for her. Jace just pulled her back towards himself. Sebastian froze and narrowed his eyes at Jace, not putting down his hands. "In case you forgot, she's my partner. So get your hands off her before you have a chance to poison her again." Jace went still against Clary, and though his arms slowly unstiffened, his jaw was still locked. When Sebastian reached for her again, he didn't make a move to draw her towards him again.

Clare didn't know where her newly acquired walking stick was taking her but hopefully there would be nontoxic air there. She glanced back at Jace, his head was facing down, turned away from their retreating form in shame. She felt horrible. It wasn't his fault that she got lightheaded and out of breath easily, she should have said something before he closed her inside. Especially after smelling the small chemical war inside the bathroom. Now he probably thought he was responsible for this whole mess. Clare made a mental note to stop by his apartment as soon as she lost Sebastian, to apologize for the trouble she'd caused.

~o.O.o~

To say Jace felt horrible was an understatement.

If Sebastian of all people could take better care of Clare than him, he really was the worst person to crawl from the pits of hell. Why hadn't he thought of the fumes when he basically locked Clare in that death trap of a bathroom? Seeing her struggling to breathe had made his chest hurt. It was his fault that she was in pain, and he hated that. He hated that when she leaned into him and held on tighter, he didn't think about how she was hurt, he thought about how natural it felt to have her there.

Sebastian and Clare had disappeared among the sea of badges and flashes of preserved evidence. Jace briefly wondered if Clare was feeling any better away from the body, his thoughts were interrupted by a small voice.

"Sir?" Jace turned to face the confused looking photographer. "Are you done investigating the body?" The blonde was frail, her figure reminded Jace of Clare. Except instead of luscious red curls that cascaded down her shoulders, her hair was short, straight. Now that he thought more on the subject, he realized the similarities were very limited.

Snapping out of his trance, he answered her. "Yeah, I'm done."

As Jace made his way around the apartment, he noticed the loneliness that seemed to radiate out of the walls in the crime scene tape covered area.

The living room was the biggest room, a worn out couch was the solitary piece of sitting furniture in the room, it's companion a small flat screen and a brown coffee table. A pile of unopened mail covered most of the tables surface, a half empty coffee mug sat on the edge of a beige envelope, creating a dark coffee ring. Jace moved the mug and gently picked up the thick casing with his latex covered hands.

_**NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center**_

He came to a stop when he noticed the personal information of the patient. His eyes scanned the paper looking for a contact name and number. Pulling out a manila envelope from his processing kit, he stored away the documents for later, closer examination.

"Has anyone found his identification?" Jace voiced loudly, staring blankly at the pictures that adorned the mantle. A woman smiling brightly at the camera man, her white blonde hair drifting across her face in beautiful contrast with her dark blue eyes. The frame of the picture was worn, the edges of the chestnut brown wood scuffed and scratched from the years. The next picture over held the same woman, though her face showed the elegant wear of several years. Her arms were wrapped around a gangly little girl, whose eyes shone with the same dark blue of her mother's, a tint of gray shadowing them beautifully.

Then Jace noticed the pale, sickly pallor of her too tight skin, how the tiny garments seemed to be heaps of clothing upon her frail shoulders, and the lackluster dullness of the hair that was so much like her mother's. This must be the patient whose files Jace found. Maureen Loss, 14, female, and diagnosed with sickle cell anemia at the age of two.

"ID belongs to an Alaric Loss. Bag and tag?" Jace turned his attention back to the petite blonde. She held out a leather wallet in her gloved hand, flipped over to a New Jersey issued ID.

"Let me see that." Jace reached out his hand, wiggling his fingers. The blonde snapped the wallet shut and handed it to him gingerly. Opening it again, Jace narrowed his eyes at small, somewhat blurry photo of the 42 year old Alaric Loss. A balding man stared back up at him, uneven grey hair combed over to reveal a receding hairline. Wrinkles of a typical man dotted his face, tight around his tired mouth. The only similarities he shared with his daughter was those dark bluish-grey eyes, yet even though he had been completely healthy, his eyes seemed to bear the sickness of a person that wasn't he had barely cracked his 40's he looked like he was a dead man walking. Oh, how ironic.

Jace wondered where the little girl and her mother could be. The body had been called in when a neighbor saw the piling mail and smelled the decomposition. Could the child be at the hospital? Where was the mother? Jace quickly decided that the best thing to do was find this man's family and then make assumptions.

A voice chimes in from behind him, snapping Jace out of his intense scrutiny of the tiny photo. "Jace? Will you show me to the body?"

Simon Lewis, head medical examiner, as he never failed to remind everyone who had the ability to listen. Jace didn't understand why Simon had to point that out every time they spoke. If Jace spent his time poking around inside dead bodies for a living, he wouldn't be trying to use it to pick up girls. Simon made him sad sometimes. "For that matter, where's Clare and Sebastian?" He carried a metallic case in his hand, probably some Doctor Frankenstein tools in there, and a face mask was pulled down over his chin so he could speak. Something told Jace that Simon had been warned not to go into the bathroom without protection, and an even bigger part of him told him it was Sebastian.

He knew he didn't have a reason to be upset for that but he was angry with himself for making such a stupid decision and getting his friend hurt.

"They went to question the neighbors for any sign of intruders." He wasn't sure if it was a lie or not but he was certain that he'd heard her sweet voice from outside at some point during his living room search.

~o.O.o~

"Do you see this?" Simon pointed at the phalange bone he held between his own, luckily skin in tact, fingers, squinting his coffee brown eyes behind his mask. Jace nodded, acutely aware of his stomach practicing for a gymnastics tournament. "We should be able to take the rest of the flesh off, and then we might get a usable bone sample." As he was talking, the darkened flesh began to slide down the small bone. Jace had to resist cursing and sprinting out the door and down the hallway.

Simon wore elbow high protective gloves as he dipped his arms into the solution. When they came out he held one of the fibulas. Jace flinched away when Simon swung it over the edge of the tub and placed it on top of a plastic casing. "If you look at it you'll notice that the bone marrow is...pudgy. It's a great example of what a lack of oxygen can do. He probably had a blood disease."

"His daughter was diagnosed with sickle cell anemia." Simon looked up at Jace from his examination of the bones he was taking out of their acidic bath. "It was in one of the files I sent back to the precinct."

"You don't know what that is." Simon looked unbelieving, like it was a miracle Jace knew something.

"Have a little faith in me. Sickle cell is a hereditary disease, it's when the red blood cells become misshapen. It causes clots and slows the oxygen carrying red blood cells from traveling around the body."

"Okay, fine, I'll give you that one." Jace grinned triumphantly. That should teach him to underestimate him again. "I need to transport the bathtub and all of these bones to the lab for further testing."

"The lab? Really? It's a freezing basement with too many coolers that don't hold liquor." Simon tilted his head to the side in an attempt to bitch glare. "I'll call for a truck and some extra hands to help you, um, take care of this."

"Sound good." His reply was muffled and Simon's head was already bowed back into the fumes. "You might want to go see how Clare is handling her Sebastian time, she might take a swan dive into her own toxic solution if they're alone for too long."

Jace didn't respond, already making his way out of the cramped apartment. The door across from him was open. It was obvious that the resident enjoyed doilies and furry things. Every surface that Jace laid his eyes on was covered in a sheen layer of gray cat fur. He had the strange urge to hiss when he came across the extravagant pink couch.

_How can people live like this?_

"How's next door?" Clare was leaning against the small end table on the other end of the room. From his place in the cat lady cave he could see Sebastian talking to an elderly woman in the kitchen. She clutched what resembled a pair of shedding house slippers.

"Lewis just got there, he's packing up the body parts to take down into his basement. The usual." Clare shook her head, laughing lightly. It lifted a weight off Jace's shoulders to see her breathing normally. Now if he could only find the right time to apologize for being a jerk.

"I've been meaning to tell you I'm sorry." At his confused expression she continued, treading lightly. "For being such a lightweight with the fumes. I didn't-"

"Are you actually _apologizing_ to _me_? For almost killing _you_?" When he put it that way it sounded ridiculous, although this entire conversation was idiotic. How could she possibly think that this was her fault? Clare shrugged, trying to play it off but Jace wasn't having any of that. "I shouldn't have closed the door with us in there, I shouldn't have put you at risk like that." Jace could tell he was making her uncomfortable but he couldn't, for the life of him, understand how she could get everything twisted enough to think she had done something wrong.

"Are you two going to come in here and help or just stand out there being useless?" Sebastian saved her from answering him but Jace was no where near done with this subject. Not until he got the answers he wanted. Something odd was going on with Clare and he wanted to know, because he cared for her, she was his friend. At least that's what he told himself.

* * *

The two of them made their way into the kitchenette, where Sebastian was shooting daggers into the, now, walking house slippers. Who were nudging his feet and purring loudly, clearly waiting for attention from this trespassing human.

"When did you call the police?"

"After three days Alaric's mail was piling up and he was such a nice man he wouldn't litter the building, him and his little girl would stop by. Maureen would play with Fluffy and Alaric would have a cup of tea with me. They would-" The woman began to prattle on.

"Yes, thank you. If you remember anything else-" Sebastian glares at Clare around his notes pad. "Please, call my associate, detective Clare Fairchild."

He handed her Clare's business card, she plucked it away with shaky hands.

"There's no need to be so rude Sebastian." Clare huffed out while glaring at him. She turned back to the woman who held her card. "Call me whenever, Harriet."

Harriet smiled back, obviously grateful to be talked to instead of talked down to.

"Thank you dear." The detectives quickly filed out of the woman's apartment.

Clare was used to Sebastian being rude and treating everyone else like they were below him. She drew the line at tea drinking, lovely old women. Not that they had run across many such women but Harriet was wonderful.

When the interview had started Sebastian had interrupted every question she had tried to ask. Only speaking to Harriet as 'Mrs Underwood' even though she had told him several times that her husband was deceased and she prefered to go by her first name.

"Where do you think you're going?" Clare froze on her way towards a waiting cab. She had planned to go back to the precinct and review the evidence and pictures collected while waiting for an autopsy report from Simon.

"The precinct. Why?" Jace looked her over, holding her out with his hands on her shoulders. He pretended to examine her closely.

"I do work there you know." Clare said, clearly trying to unclasp his hands. She could see Sebastian glaring at them from behind Jace. He opened his mouth but before he could convince her to go home or go on an oxygen mask, Clare interrupted. "We have a duty to find whoever killed that man and get justice for his acidic bubble bath, it's what we do."

Clare knew that Jace couldn't fight her logic.

"Fine. But I want you to promise you'll go home if you even feel slightly dizzy." Clare rolled her eyes skyward. Jace inclined his head to the side, glaring her down.

"Okay, I promise that I'll go home if I feel off." Clare said, appeasing her best friends request. Jace seemed happy and released her arms. She began treading towards the waiting cab that Sebastian had apparently called for her. "I'm also promising that I'm going to finish my notes, organize the pictures of the crime scene, and talk to Simon. Bye!"

"Clare! That is playing dirty!" Jace made a mental note to put a bag of ice over her front door and make sure to be recording when she opens it.

"You should be used to seeing the backside of a woman running away from you." Sebastian shrugged off Jace's death stare. Sometimes Jace wanted to punch Sebastian in the face and other times he just wanted to push him off a high bridge.

"Not all woman can handle the eighth wonder of the world. Also known as Jace Herondale, extremely attractive, brilliant, and-" Jace twirled a pen between his nimble fingers.

"More than a little full of himself." Sebastian finished with a grimace.

* * *

Clare found herself in a freezer a mere quarter hour after leaving her partner and best friend at the crime scene. She was waiting patiently for Simon and the body parts to arrive at the examination room. Sitting cross legged on one of the cool, metal tables.

"Detective?" Clare turned to see a startled looking intern in blue scrubs. "Can you vacate the autopsy bed so the guys can carry in the body?" Clare flushed, she hoped that someone hadn't half assed their job and actually cleaned up after every body.

"Yeah, sorry." The brunette ducked her head in acknowledgement, a mirroring blush coloring her toned cheeks. The door opened wider to allow in two burly looking men. They each held onto one side of the black tarp bag. Simons significantly smaller frame shortly came through the door.

"Hey, I was expecting Jace or Sebastian." Clare looked over at him quizzically while the men carefully placed the bag onto the empty table. Clare vaguely recalled seeing the brunette spraying it down beforehand. "Not that it's not nice to see you."

"Mhm," Clare smiled affectionately at his stuttering. In her time in New York she had a sort of schedule on the daily.

Wake up in a sweat from a half dozen nightmares, have boiling hot coffee with Jace, go to work after fighting someone off for a taxi while Jace did nothing, and usually get a visit from Simon to talk about whatever the current case was. At first Clare had thought that Simon was developing a crush on her but when she'd caught him trying to talk to Izzy in the break room, it quickly fizzled out the awkward way she had been treating him that week.

Their friendship was the sweet coworker type but Clare hoped to set him up with Izzy, he was too nerdy and shy to talk to her on his own. Not to mention Clare and Izzy had somehow ended up talking and hanging out with Maia and Aline constantly over the last month. They'd even taken her shopping to replace the clothes her mother was still refusing to send. All in all Clare could admit she was starting to fit into New York.

Even if she hadn't gotten a solo case yet, even with just her and Sebastian, they always had other detectives with them. Usually Jace and Alec but there had been instances where they were stuck doing paperwork instead of actual police work.

Clare snapped out of her silent review of the past couple of week. She was becoming attached and happy here, she didn't know if she should be pleased or not.

"So what can you tell me, doc?" Simon chuckled lightly as Clare leaned closed to the detached limbs lying in front of them. Simon was impressed that, unlike Sebastian's brute honesty and Jace's polite inclination to vomit, Clare didn't seem bothered. On second thought maybe he should be more concerned.

Simon examined the radius and ulna bones. Chunks of tissue gathered at the edges, separated from the cartilage. "Look at this, the bone is incredibly delicate, and looks worn like he was struggling." Simon brought his gloved hands up, sticking his wrists together and began rubbing them. "But the cracks look too deep and severe for a day, although with his anemia it would make sense."

Simon quickly rattled on that Alaric Loss and his daughter suffered from sickle cell anemia and that they were probably in a constant fear of blood clotting or bone breaks. Clare felt herself take a new look at their victim, who would kill a man who could survive his own body trying to kill him? Why? Her thoughts once again drifted to the pictures of the woman she'd seen when she had arrived at the scene earlier that day. Where was his wife? Was she in danger?

"Do you think you could give me a sample to run through the system and find his daughter?" Simon scooped up some of the former skin into a small vial and placed it into a cardboard container. He handed it off to Clare, who gratefully swiped the white box and stashed it into her purse. "Thanks, Si."

"No problem." He muttered, distracted. He was already digging into the remains. Clare sometimes thought Simon was a little too interested in corpses.

* * *

_**Hello my darlings, there's a few events coming up that will make you want to punch me in the face repeatedly. Learn to love me again, please.**_

_**I'm also reposting this because I decided that the second part isn't long enough to be on its own so now I'm elongating this section and posting the next soon. For those of you asking where my chapters keep disappearing off to... I'm a perfectionist and I don't think my writing is good enough and I keep chickening out and deleting them. So if anyone knows a way out of that fresh hell, tell me.**_

_**I have also decided to write Harry Potter and Fairy Tail stories. Completely separate of course, could you imagine the weird combination those two worlds would make? So if you're interested in them you can follow me as an author and get notified or follow this story and I'll post on here when they are up!**_

**_So I got this review that said 'oh this story. The story that's updated once a year.' and I wish I could deny it but I can't._**

_**XOXO**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments, if I did you could find me on a beach on the Black Sea coast instead of this dingy room.**_

_**Chapter 5**_

"Hey, can you get the paperwork for running a DNA sample?" The young receptionist nodded his head, but didn't make a move to get out of the chair. "Today, please."

He rolled his light eyes and began rifling through folders on the side of his desk.

Clare wanted to drop the container that seemed to be searing a hole at the bottom of her purse and get the hell out of dodge. Her head was pounding to the tune of _Beat It_ and it wasn't at all helpful for her quickly souring mood.

He poked his head over the high wall of the desk and handed her a piece of paper with excess force. Some people were just too lazy to do their jobs without having to be talked to as if they were a child. Seems not all things were different from home, Clare shook her head.

Two faulty pens, an ink stain on her blazer, and a missed call from Jace later- she was handing over the sample along with the paperwork. She knew she should call him back because he was just being a caring friend and trying to look after her but she already had an older brother and a mother. Clare also realized that putting Jace in the same category as them was offensive at best and friendship ruining at worst.

She walked out of the building, waiting another fifteen minutes until the cab she'd called arrived. Although she didn't see the point in having a car in a city as big as New York, she really did wonder if buying one would save her the trouble of waiting hours in a day for a stupid taxi.

_Getting back from the lab now. Sent in the sample, it should be done in about a day. Have you found anything else about the family?_

_-C.F._

She sometimes considered getting rid of the signature at the bottom, after all everyone important had her number and contact information already but old habits were hard to break. Clare was used to sending out forms in emails, her old boss not needing her for anything other than finishing his excess paperwork. Waiting for a response in the back of the cab, Clare thought once again about buying a car for the sole reason of never having to smell roadkill this close up again. Did they not know what Febreze is?

The driver stopped and Clare handed over a twenty dollar bill. She swung her legs out of the backseat and dragged herself out of the car. She was at the corner of the street, the driver muttering something about a traffic block up ahead. Even though Clare didn't appreciate the walking she now had to do when she had already paid him for the full ride, she was beyond grateful for the cleanish air outside. It was New York and that meant fumes and strange vendors at every questionable turn.

_Heading back from the crime scene now. Meet in the breakroom- I need a strong cup of coffee more than I need to get laid right now._

_-J.H._

Clare knew that he signed it as a taunt but couldn't be bothered to respond with the last part of his message staring her down. Why did _she_ need to know that? Was she supposed to offer him sex? Americans were strange.

Not that Jace wasn't attractive, or sweet, or funny, because he was. But she wasn't into him in that way, well not as much anymore. She wasn't going to deny that when they met at Pandamonium she had considered sleeping with him, the only things stopping her were Maia and her dignity. She'd never had a one night stand before and she hadn't been sure she wanted to start then. Finding out he worked with her and that he had a girlfriend was a wake up call, not to mention that he was her neighbor. If she had slept with him it would have made things incredibly awkward, she wouldn't have the friend she did now.

Her feet kept moving even as her mind was somewhere else. Before she knew it, she was riding the elevator up to her department floor. It had that 'just cleaned' lemony scent. Clare scrunched her nose up at the uncomfortable fragmented memories it brought into her head. She didn't know the janitor but she made a mental note to find out where his office was and talk to him about a new cleaning solution.

When the doors opened Clare was met with absolute chaos. There were detectives rushing from desk to desk carrying obscene amounts of pictures and papers, patrol guards in uniforms Clare associated with strippers and even a few terrified looking witnesses.

Was there a mass shooting while she rode in the cab?

Spotting Alec and Jace in the breakroom with cups of steaming coffee, she made her way over. Barely avoiding a head on collision with a swinging briefcase. The outraged man shook it violently behind him while yelling profanities. Clare veered away quickly wanting to save herself from having to get a nose job because someone's lawyer couldn't control his arms.

"What the hell is going on around here?" Jace and Alec leveled their heads towards her, as if they just noticed her. Neither answering her, Jace took a slow sip of his mug and jerked his head towards the window overlooking the rest of the office. Clare turned her head, confused. "And, more important at the moment," She scowled at a particularly strange scene of a woman walking between two desks. "Why are there people running around here in lingerie?"

"I can answer both but it's more entertaining watching that horrified look on your face." Jace laughed before dipping his head back into his mug. Eyes surveilling the live PornHub advertisement around them.

Alec signed at Jace before turning back to Clare. "Turns out our victim's family man portrayal didn't stretched out to his wife."

"His wife is a stripper?" Alec nodded his head, while Jace remained hypnotised by the amount of curves and ribbons that passed as outfits. Clare felt strangely disappointed in him for being a pure blooded male. "Why bring an entire club, though?"

Jace's head snapped up. "Well, we couldn't be sure which one she was. With the-um, dark lights." A light flush covered his cheekbones.

"If you want to look at half naked women, I suggest you go on a pornsite or a _gentlemen's_ club, though there is nothing gentlemanly about paying women to take their clothes off, or your own bloody apartment. May I remind you that this is a place of _police work_. Does it look like any of the people out there are getting anything done?" Clare pointed wildly at the window in front of them where one could clearly see that no such thing was being done right now.

"Well said, Detective Fairchild," Clare turned in a slow circle to note Hodge standing behind her, looking as disappointed and outraged at the Homicide Department staff as she felt. "Lightwood, shouldn't you be on vacation?"

"Got back early, sir." Clare had nothing against Alec. She knew that Alec, gay and in a happy relationship Alec, had nothing to do with this terrible display of male bullshit. Sebastian and Jace, however, were straight and horny. She knew it had been a horrible idea to leave those two jackasses alone. She would think Jace would at least have some shame, he had Kaelie. Who was, admittedly, annoying as all hell and was probably one of those weirdos who enjoyed nipple clamps in bed but Jace should have at least some regrets about ogling these women. The image in Clare's head made her want to vomit.

"Where's moron number two, also known as Sebastian?"

"He's questioning one of the girls." Jace at least had the brains to look slightly more ashamed of himself. Then again he had gone undercover enough times to become a proficient actor. Clare considered a lie detector to see if he _actually_ felt any remorse for dragging all these woman here for no real reason.

"Oh, I bet he is." Clare turned back around, annoyed at the heavens for setting her up with this needy teenager as a partner. What had she done to deserve this? She paid her taxes, dammit, she even tipped waiters who were more incompetent than Sebastian. "Interrogation room one or two?"

Jace held up one finger, toying with the handle of his mug with the other fingers.

"I'll be back for you." She threatened pointing her hand back towards and sneering at the blonde before marching down towards Sebastian's location.

Clare wanted to go in there and whack him upside the head but stopped herself before opening the door, instead she walked into the viewing room, she wanted to be sure Sebastian wasn't questioning the mother since it would look unprofessional if she barged in on an interrogation. Peering through the one way glass from the viewing room she shook her head, he was unbelievable. She now wanted to hit herself upside the head for thinking he could do anything properly without adult supervision.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the table leering, quite creepily actually, down at a small asian girl with dark eyes and black hair. Clare clicked on the microphone button, allowing Sebastian's deep voice into the room. "Now if you can write down your number, in case I have any further questions about the investigation."

Just as he was handing her a yellow legal pad and pen the door slammed into the wall and there Clare stood, watching him with unadulterated loathing.

"Thank you for your time, you're free to go." The girl strut out of the room in a floral mesh babydoll outfit. Clare had two questions that needed immediate answers. Where were this girls parents, any of their parents. and how much would their therapy bills be if they could see them now?

"What the hell?" He had the nerve to look mad because she had probably just saved his job. His entire career, really. She could only image Hodges face if he found out Sebastian was using someone's murder investigation as a way of getting laid. What a tool.

"Seriously? She's probably in the same class as the victim's daughter. I just saved you a lot of jail time and prison inmates aren't too kind of child molesters. Now get your ass out of there and into the main hall. We are sending all these women back to their...um, jobs." She pointed out of the hall and into the open area where their desks were covered in women.

Sebastian rolled his eyes skyward and walked out of the rooms. Clare followed closely behind him. When she finally reached the crowded area she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me? May I have your attention, please?" She rose her voice until the people had quieted down. Alec shoulder-pushed his way to her, dragging Jace behind him. "Thank you for coming out today but I'm afraid we're only looking for a Mrs Loss!" She hoped that the woman would come out on her own but knowing the crowd she wouldn't be surprised if nothing happened. The women turned their heads towards one another, as if searching for answers that none of them had.

"Anyone who has information about her, please see Detective Lightwood so we can get you sorted." Clare gestured with her hand towards Alec, who looked disturbed that so many women were now looking at him. Poor thing.

Many of the women flocked towards him, making Jace and Sebastian chuckle. Clare quickly rectified their humor with a swift hand behind both their heads, without anyone noticing of course. An hour later, Clare was maxed out. Every woman she talked to would have the same answers, they didn't know an Alaric and they certainly didn't have a daughter with him.

She flicked a strand of hair away from her face with a huff. Sebastian walked to her desk. "Alec is interviewing the last couple of girls and _you_ need some beauty rest." Clare watched him galavant before he stretched his arms out widely, to the amusement of two bystanding patrol cops. "A handsome bloke like me can't be seen with such a herroundes ogre. Milady must rest!"

Clare laughed at his idiotic accent. "Don't ever visit England, you'll be laughed out of the country."

"How you offend! I only intended to call thy lady a taxi to take her home, now I must ask you to once again take your leave before my fragile manliness is broken entirely."

Clare refused to break down in a fit of giggles in front of the rest of her coworkers. Standing up, she reached over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder- leaning forward she brushed her lips against his cheek.

A few catcalls sounded from behind them. "Thanks, partner."

Sebastian blushed. "Your cab's downstairs. Sleep tight."

~o.O.o~

Changing into jeans and a sweater Clare walked out of the apartment. Her messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Once in the hallway she could hear the screams better. Sighing, she walked quickly down the stairs toward the exit, keeping her torso stiff to prevent irritating her stomach. Her mind was wide awake, and there was no way she could get any sleep anytime soon. She'd tossed and turned for the better part of two hours before Alec texted her saying the mother was in the hospital.

"Clare?" Grinding her teeth, she turned to face Sebastian. She can tell from the high flush of his cheeks, he was cold.

"What are you doing here?" Clare walked outside with Sebastian's fair head bouncing behind her. The door locked with a click.

"I figured you'd want to go interview Aya Loss at the hospital and partners stick together, right?" Sebastian swung his arm around her quivering shoulders and pulled her towards him.

"Absolutely." Her arm slipped along his back.

~o.O.o~

Clare left Sebastian in the front office, talking with a couple of blue clad nurses. The elevator smelled foul. Like sour milk and rotten eggs, not the pleasantry you would expect in an elevator that's probably had someone die in it. Clare cringed at the thought. When the doors to the eighth floor opened Clare's heart stopped.

Chunks of the ceiling hung on thick wire of black. Glass glinted off the lights shining through the windows, the broken pieces littered the floor like newly fallen snow.

The lights flickering on and off, the ones that were still hanging loosely from the ceiling. There was an unconscious nurse laying a few feet in front of her. Clare launched herself at the woman's body. Checking the her pulse Clare let out a long breath. She was alive.

Grasping onto her upper arms Clare dragged her into the elevator. There was a fallen gurnee on the floor. Cream colored sheets scattered along with syringes and loose pills. Clare checked behind it for patients or medical staff. Nothing.

Clare wanted to call out for help, but what if the people who did this were still there?

Looking through the first couple of rooms Clare couldn't find anyone. Empty beds and a messy pile of blankets gathered at the foot of a few.

Until the second to last room Clare thought hopefully everyone had been evacuated safely before whatever happened happened. There were two patients sleeping in their beds. Two men, both in their mid-forties, and strands of grey hair covering their scalp. It took Clare ten minutes to wheel both patients into the elevator. There wasn't any room left for her and Clare pushed the down button.

What the hell was taking the guys so long? They should be here by now. Clare turned to investigate the last room. A doctor was hunched over on the ground, her white lab coat crinkled with her ragged bleeding. Clare glanced back at the two men as the door closed and took off towards the woman.

Clare gently took a step towards her. "No, don't!" She froze and the brown haired woman shook her head rapidly as she lifted herself on her elbows. "Detective, I need you to make a call for me."

~o.O.o~

The phone rang against her ear.

"Jace, there's a bomb on the twelfth floor. The elevator isn't coming back up and Doctor O'Ryan is strapped to the bomb, it's equipped with movement sensors. She even breathes the wrong way and this entire floor is going straight to hell." Clare could hear the hitch in Jaces voice when he spoke.

"No, we are going to get you out of there." Clare looked out the window, the street was crowded with police cars and pedestrians. "The bomb squad is here. We have a tech team working on the elevator and everyone is prepared to go up the second they can. Until then you keep the good doctor from moving and keep yourself as far away as possible." Clare didn't bother correcting him that if the bomb blew it wouldn't matter where she was on the floor, she would die.

"I'll be waiting. We can catch a late marathon, yeah? I've got to go." Her lips shook with barely contained emotion. She didn't know why this was happening. Clare heard Jace object before she hung up. She needed to know if the bomb was remotely detonated, triggered just by movement, or timed. Clare walked back to O'Ryan.

"Hey, I need to take pictures of the deadly device strapped to you. Would that be okay with you?" Clare knew that in normal circumstances she would be calming the victim but this was a woman that handled death on a normal basis. Not just that- she dealt with the outcome of death, the family's trauma.

"Yeah, just make it quick." Clare moved into the room and her heart sped up. The nearer Clare got the more fear she could read off O'Ryans face. Maybe she wasn't in control as much as Clare thought she was. Taking shots of the vest Clare noticed the stick of C4.

"Do you know who did this to you?" O'Ryan looked at her confused.

"I don't remember that." Clare guessed that was the result of drugs entering her system. "I don't remember who hooked me up with this damn thing, I don't know who killed me."

"You aren't dead yet. And if I have anything to do with it, you won't be by the end of this. Do you have a family?" O'Ryan nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Tell me about them."

"My husband, David, and my two girls, Cameron and Victoria. My parents died two years ago. David was in the military, he'll takes care of the girls when I'm gone." Her tears were running freely down her face. "Do you have kids or a husband?"

"No. There is this guy that I like but I haven't said anything. I got dragged into this mess. You know what? We're both going to get out here and you're going to go home to your family and I'm going to pucker up the courage. Okay?"

"Okay." O'Ryan didn't look convinced but she nodded. "You should send those pictures to your team. Get us out of here, Detective." Clare nodded and walked back into the hall. A text message came through a few minutes later.

_'It's remotely triggered. She can move but do not attempt to remove the vest.'_

"Hey, O'Ryan, I have good news." Clare turned toward the woman. She was laying on her side. "O'Ryan? Are you okay?" Walking closer to the woman Clare was getting nervous. Her hand was holding a scalpel. "Oh my god." Her lifeless eyes were staring up into the flickering light. Her wrist was torn open, ribbons of flesh stretching into thick slits.

"Oh shit." There was a timer on the inside of the vest. O'Ryans neck angle allowed Clare to see the clock. In a few minutes the bomb was going to blow up and Clare would die. Running down the hall Clare stopped at the elevator and tried to open the doors.

"Come on, come on! No, no, please! Open!" Clare started kicking the door. She could practically hear the ticking of the clock. The ticking of the seconds of her life clicking down. She never got to visit Harry Potter World. It felt like the things in her life revolved around catching murderers and taking care of her family.

There was a janitor's closet at the end of the hall. It looked like it was far enough away from the bomb that Clare hoped the worst she would get would be third degree burns. Hopefully not on her face.

Clare ran to the closet and shut the door behind her. There were metal shelves on the walls. Towels and musty smelling bottles lined them and even though Clare knew the shelves would provide little to no protection from the fire she still began moving it against the door. Clare crouched into the farthest corner of the small closet. Her knees crushed into her ribcage.

_10… I'm sorry mom, you were right- I don't know why I thought I could do this alone._

_...9...8...Take care of yourself Jonathan...7...Sebastian, you were a better partner than I ever thought possible...6... Isabelle, thanks for teaching me not to wear yellow with pink because it looks like a clown suit._

_...5...Jace, thank you for being my best friend._

_...3...2...Wait, how the hell do I know when the bomb is going to go off?_

Then the world went straight to bloody hell.

~o.O.o~

Fire burned up Clare's legs. At least she would never have to wax again. There was a silver lining to being blown up. Clare could hear a loud screeching sound in her ears. There was glass imbedded into her arms from where she had shielded her face and head, but some smaller bits still cut her cheeks. There was blood dripping on the side of her head, probably from a larger bit of debris. There was a high pitched buzz deafening her ears still.

Clare couldn't hear anything but the screeching inside of her head. There were lights breaking through the smoke. Pieces of debris were on fire and filling Clare's lungs with smoke. Her eyes filled with tears from the heat, but she was too strong willed to let them fall.

Clare was on her stomach, crawling on her arms and legs. Metal bit into her skin, cutting her. She bit the inside of her cheek, but her hand made contact with a heated wire, and she screamed and thought about the major burn-to-be. Streams of pain radiated from her right leg, probably broken or dislocated, though it was a minor pain compared to the pain in her head. All Clare knew, was that she had to keep moving, because if she didn't, she knew she would die.

Her head spun freely and the fire raged around her and bit at her flesh.

There was a light at the end of the hall. Clare crawled rapidly toward it, she was positive it wasn't the light to heaven. Clare had too many sins on record. Shadows moved round her, suffocating her. Hands were pulling at her; strange noises were moving the air around her. They sounded like sirens, but she was too close to passing out, to be sure.

Clare felt something lift her off the floor and the last thing she saw before she plunged into darkness, was a pair of beautiful golden eyes.

~o.O.o~

* * *

**_So I was wondering, would you guys prefer shorter chapters with less time between updates or longer chapters with a bigger waiting period, like now? Keep in mind that if I write shorter chapters I'll be able to post more frequently and on more of my stories._**

**_*Dramatic hair flip*_**

_**I know excuses don't exactly make up for the missed updates that you guys have wanted but these are actual things. I had finals, Christmas and my room has been completely uprooted. Down to ripping the carpet out and taking days to gut the walls and putting in new ones. I also bruised my knees and twisted my wrist from spending hours adjusting the new floor boards. But I had a good New Year with my best friend and no hangover!**_

**_So this is the extended version. Hope you guys liked it!_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments but if I did you could bet your life that it would have taken thirty years to get the first two books written.**

**Chapter 6**

**Five Years Ago**

**Manhattan, New York**

The black knit mask slid easily from his chiseled face. The fabric scratched and tethered along his jaw and pulled at the strands of his fair hair. Tugging his dark gloves away he sneered at the dark red stains marking his wrist and pooling on the cloth of his jacket. His sleeve dropped smears of crimson on the tabletop.

His muscles were sore, he stretched them tiredly behind his lethal body.

Stripping the incriminating material away from his pale skin, the man pulled his semi-automatic away from his waistband. The cool metal sliding comfortingly on his skin. The noise echoed throughout the empty room, the clank of the cool metal hitting the wooden surface.

His lips came together as a familiar melody rang through the small space. He swiped the dirting textile easily on the black barrel. When he was satisfied he gently packed away his supplies into a briefcase and pulled away. One after the other- bloody clothing was peeled away from his flesh and exchanged with a clean pair. He pulled the picture out of his back pocket and gazed at the redhead in the middle.

She was smiling radiantly, freckles dotting her soft cheeks and waves of luscious ginger hair rained around her shoulders. They contracted with the bright blue of her uniform but he thought she looked beautiful. He ran his calloused fingers along the edge of the paper, humming his stolen tune, pulling out a red pen he made two deep marks on the unmoving print.

Looking at it now he was smiling.

A picture was worth a thousand words but this one was worth only one. Precious.

Walking out into the lobby he could hear the screams and cries for help that seemed to pulse from every nook and cranny in the precarious building. The streets were lined with pedestrians and the approaching sirens and flashes of red and blue.

He spared one last glance towards the door and then did what ghosts do best.

He disappeared.

~o.O.o~

**Present Day**

Clare woke up in a dim room. The walls were a bleached yellowed color, more a light caramel and as the sun set it swirled into a honey gold. She crushed her fingers into the blanket. Her head was brewing a storm. Clare lifted her hand to her face. An IV tube was imbedded into her papery rough skin. The hairs on her arms were singed off. Clare tried to reach for the mirror on her bedside table. There was a sharp pang in her shoulder. A soft yelp escaped her dry, chapped lips.

"Clare?" Jace walked briskly through the door. Clare could see two nurses running towards Jace's sweating form. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?" He turned and locked the door, causing the nurses to screech into a halt.

"What happened? Why am I here?" She remembered everything but the past couple of hours. Clare could remember the case and coming to the hospital to question Aya Loss, her strange scented elevator ride. There were blanks in her mind. A flash of gold, a touch here and there. Fire, a vivid memory of living flames.

"There was an explosion. You have a concussion, the doctors say you might have some slight memory gaps but it should all come back." Jace took small steps towards the small twin bed. He was talking in a calm tone like he was approaching a wild animal. Clare used her elbows to lift herself up to where her back was pressed against the two pillows.

"I know this sounds incredibly cliché but I don't remember anything." Clare blew out a harsh breath. She tried to sound small so he wouldn't be able to really hear her. Jace didn't look at her like she was pathetic, she would have expected him to. As far as she's known Jace he was always sarcastic and straight forward on occasion. Why would he be apathetic towards her now?

She furrowed her brows at him in confusion. Clare tilted her head to the side. She pursed her lips and frowned slightly. The last thing she remembered was running through halls. Beyond that, nothing.

"It's not. Anything you need to know you can always ask me." Clare couldn't figure what exactly it was that she was sensing on him. His hair was plastered across his forehead like he slept tossing and turning in an uncomfortable place. His shirt and jeans were crumpled and sticking to his chest. Clare held her hand out to him and he reached out to grab onto it.

"Who set the explosion? Was anyone else hurt?" Jace sat down next to her and squeezed her hand. His worrying eyes were focusing on her hand, he was sweating bullets and wouldn't look her in the eyes.

"Doctor O'Ryan's dead. I don't know what happened before you called me but you rescued three people. When that bomb went off every window on that floor blew out. Honestly, no one thought you were alive. We surveyed the debris for hours until we found you. You were unconscious, your pulse was practically nonexistent, I thought you were gone, until you started to thrash and scream, and mumble like you were having a nightmare. You couldn't be picked up so the paramedics had to sedate you." Jaces eyes were downcast and his fingers were playing with hers.

"Am I okay? I know that sounds ridiculous, I mean I was just blown up, but I mean serious injuries. Can I walk? Do I have all my hair still? Third degree burns anywhere?" Jace flinched and Clare knew something was wrong. "What's wrong with me?"

"There was shrapnel embedded in your leg. They operated and cut it out, but they think there may be some nerve damage. They don't know if you'll be able to walk." Clare bolted up further off the bed. She ripped her hand away from his.

"Get me up. Now!" Jaces face morphed into a look of panic. He used his hands to press against her shoulders, pushing her back down onto the bed. "Let me up! Jace!" He was shaking his head quickly.

"I'm sorry but I can't let you do that. You could make it worse." His face was inches from hers. She was pushing at his torso.

"I need to know! Please!" Jace stopped, his hands resting on her shoulders lightly. He dropped them to her waist, gripping her tightly he lifted her away from the covers.

Clare gasped loudly. It hurt like hell, but Clare needed to know if she would be able to feel anything. She couldn't be a cop without the ability to move her legs.

Jace placed her on the ground and Clare felt a burning pain radiating off of her legs. Jace pulled her closer to him. Clare's arm was wrapped around his neck. The pain seemed to melt off of her bones. His arm was tightly knit around her waist, holding her flush to him.

"It's alright." Jace slowly backed into the bed. He put her down gently and let go of her waist. Bending down, Jace picked her numb legs off the ground and placed them underneath the blanket. Clare leaned back on the pillows. Jace tucked the blanket under her arms. He heard knocking on the door and a nurse's voice.

The door was unlocked and a nurse came in looking as red as a beet. She stepped to the side and pointed angrily at the door. Jace bent down and kissed Clare's forehead. She looked up at him.

"I'll see you soon." He smiled at her reassuringly and turned on his heels towards the door. The blonde nurse hurried to the bed. She glared at Jace as he paused at the door and looked back at Clare. She smiled softly at him.

"I'll see you soon." She waved at him as another nurse ushered him out of the door and closed it behind her. Clare looked at the closed door for a moment. Tuning in on what the nurse was saying.

~o.O.o~

Clare was back on her feet in less than a weekend. The pain medication and crutch helped her maneuver the precinct floor.

"Should you be out of the hospital?" Turning slowly in a semicircle, Clare noticed the black haired detective munching on a half eaten chocolate chip cookie. Blue eyes glaring accusingly at her lightly casted leg.

"I have enough prescription pills to start my own drug cartel. I'll be fine." Alec lent her a hand as she stumbled towards their desks. Clare tried to push most of her weight onto the crutch but Alec pulled her away from the instability.

"In good conscience I have to ask for at least 50% of all profits, since I'll be keeping the police off your back." Nearing their seats Clare gazed at the whiteboard covered in red dry eraser marker. Alaric Loss was written in black block letters at the top of the jumble of evidence photo's and colorful footnotes.

"I can agree to 45% but no more." She said distractedly. Alec helped lower her into her chair knowing her attention was focused on the caseboard. Strands of thick red connected small notes, 'alive when dunked in solution' and 'wife and child in custody'. "We have Aya and Maureen Loss here?"

"They're in the waiting room. They were on the floor below you. My guess is that the bomber hacked into the hospital system to try and find them but we had the wrong floor up as a precaution. Thankfully only one person died in the explosion and you're okay."

"Can I speak with them?" Alec opened his mouth to speak but before he could another voice spoke behind him.

"Absolutely, after you check yourself back into the hospital." Twisting her torso to him Clare rolled her eyes heaven's way. There Jace was, arms crossed and looking at her disapprovingly.

Kealie strode out from behind his stiff frame. "Jace leave Longstocking to her board, we have somewhere to go." Raking her ivy nails along his forearm and twirling a length of thick hair with her long fingers.

Clare wondered if she rolled her eyes far enough into her skull, would she see her brain shrivel up and die? Jace twitched away but didn't say anything else, Clare turned back to face Alec.

"Which room?" Alec was staring at the whispering couple in growing embarrassment. "Alec…" Clare prodded in a singsong voice. He shook his head sending bushels of dark hair on his forehead.

"They're in one behind the interrogation rooms. Cap wanted to keep them away from any foot traffic." Clare nodded in acknowledgement before raising herself to her trembling feet. The rubber point squeaked against the smooth floor.

The nearer Clare got to the closed door the more she heard sounds. The giggles of a young girl and the jubilant laughter of an older woman. Clare grasped the doorknob and opened it slowly. Aya and Maureen looked closely alike, like in the pictures in Alaric's apartment. For the second time in mere weeks Clare watched the scene with questions.

What had gone wrong in their family? Why was this happening to them? And who was responsible?

"Excuse me," Clare walked fully into the room and shut the door behind her. "My name's Clare Fairchild and I just have some questions about your husband, if you don't mind."

"Of course. Anything you need to find out who did this." Maureen moved a stack of brightly colored drawings from the seat in front of her mother, smiling at Clare the little girl sat on the floor at her mother's feet.

The redhead smiled at the child.

Maureen looked at her crayons and her mask cracked, in that moment Clare knew that Maureen wasn't as innocent as her mother thought. She knew her father was gone and was putting on a brave face for her mother.

"Can you think of any trouble your husband might have been in?"

"Ric liked to play cards, he used to play for small stakes with his friends from work but he was let go last month. He started trying to make up his paycheck but he got obsessed-" Aya stopped to wipe her face. Burying it in her daughter's shoulder. Maureen patted her mother's head, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"Do you know how much he owned or to who?" The woman's face scrunched up in thought, her eyes glazing over. Clare leaned forward and softened her voice an octave. "Anything that you can think of that can help this investigation?"

"He liked to play in Chinatown, he would mention a man once in awhile. I think his name was Ling Fae or something like that. I'm not sure." Clare scribbled the name down on the notecard paper on her lap.

"Can you remember anything strange happening before..." Clare glanced towards the little girl again. Her watery eyes watched the redhead as she stumbled over her words. Clare could see Maureen's control breaking the longer she studied her shaking mother. "We found Mr Loss?"

"I, uh- Last week Maureen was at a friends house and I came home early. I got off the elevator and I could hear a lot of yelling coming from the apartment, I ducked into the stairwell before I saw who it was but he was very angry." Maureen sniffed the air, automatically whipping the undersides of her eyes.

"Do you recall anything about him that can help us identify him?"

"He had a deep voice and an accent. I'm sorry that's all."

"Thank you for your time." Leaning forward Clare gripped the womans hand.

"I should have convinced him to stop gambling, I should have-" Clare squeezed her hands tighter in herself. Aya's head snapped up to meet Clare's.

"This is not your fault." Clare's phone vibrated on her hip, releasing her hands. "I have to take this." Aya nodded before turning back to her little girl. Clare stopped in the doorway. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

~o.O.o~

A loud crash woke Clare in the dead of night.

Sweat dripping along her feverish skin as she kicked the duvet away from her shaking legs. Her silken nightgown sliding smoothly against her thighs, Clare strained her arm underneath the wood of her nightstand. The cool metal met her heated fingers, a muffled scrape echoed through the apartment.

Clare's head was still reeling from unconsciousness, the noise grew softer until it was quiet. For a moment Clare considered that it had all been in her head, but she knew better than to trust the crushing silence. Sliding out of bed with the loaded gun gripped tightly in her still hands.

Clare kept her back pasted on the wall, holding the weapon close to her face as she peered at the door. Pushing down on the door handle Clare listened as the frame swung out slowly. A golden light filled her living room. Clare's body was working on autopilot, pointing the barrel at the doors in the corridor and heading towards the light.

When she finally spotted the intruder the lowered the gun with a loud clank against the tempered glass of the end table. "Okay, so you have three options." Clare crossed her arms over her chest. "One, you call tell me why you're breaking vases and creeping around in my apartment at-" Glancing at the watch face on the inside of her wrist she winced. "**_Holy_**, two in the morning."

Before she continued she waited for him to react, in vain. He continued to sit on the edge of her couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes trained on her movements. Studying her expressions.

Sighing she ticked off a second finger. "Two, you keep sitting there and pretend that if you don't move I don't see you. Or, my personal favorite, I use my lack of sleep as an excuse to toss you off the balcony." After several seconds she narrowed her tired eyes at him. "_Jace_."

"I brought tea?" His usual cocky personality was replaced by an obvious pressure of nervousness and the shaking of his leg. Clare spotted a discarded cardigan flung on the back of the couch and slipped it over her chilled arms. Jace watched her as she took a seat next to him.

Clasping her hands below his elbow she leaned into him. "Are you okay?"

He placed his hand over hers and bowed his head on hers. His breath ruffling her messy curls. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you?"

She chuckled lightly. Folding her legs beneath her she tilted her head to the side. "We're both pretty screwed up right now, huh?"

"Hey," Jace pulled his arm away from her fingers and slung it around her shoulders. "You got poisoned and blown up in less than a month."

"What's your excuse then?" Glancing up at him she shivered from the cold biting her legs. Jace pulled a fuzz, blue afghan over her.

"The usual cold hearted, selfish, whining-" Jace drifted into incoherent mumbling as Clare's eyebrows lifted into her hairline. Noticing that she wasn't following along with his rant he stopped speaking, taking a deep breath he tried again. "Kaelie is driving me up the walls. She demands attention and she controls every part of our relationship. As if I'm not allowed to be an adult unless it suits her. Like when she needs money for a thousand dollar hair treatment or manicure. She can't hold a job on her own because of her attitude- I'm sorry Clare, I came over here to apologize about the bathroom incident, not complain."

"So that's what's up with the tea." Jace nodded while looking slightly uncomfortable. "Don't worry about the Kaelie thing, you can talk to me about it whenever you like."

"Thanks Clary." The redhead looked at him questioningly at the term of endearment. He shrugged it off. "We had an intense fight tonight, ended late. Speaking of… I'm sorry I scared you and that I showed up here so late."

"Don't forget the breaking in and almost getting shot thing." They stayed dipped into the couch. Sinking into the plush material and each other.

"How can I?" He laughed. Although Clare could tell he was a little freaked out about the near bullet chewing experience.

"You can stay here as long as you need, I have a guest bedroom that you can use."

"Are you-" She glared at him from under her lashes. Answering him before he had a chance to finish his question. Clare rose from the couch quickly, gently folding the blanket over the felted arm.

"Off to bed we go," She reached out her hands for him to take. Pulling him up from the cushions she huffed as though he weighed a ton. "You might want to lay off the doughnuts, we don't want you proving all those stereotypes right, now do we?"

"Are you competing for bitch of the year?" Clare checked the locks on the door while Jace placed the tea tins on the kitchen counter.

Clare fingered the raised steel grip of her gun as she turned the safety on. Leading Jace towards the bedroom doors. "As the defending champion, are you nervous?"

"Absolutely! My title is directly linked to my identity."

The lights went off in the apartment one by one until only their nightstands lit the dark hallway. Their doors were on opposite sides and they could see each others honey golden light. Jace laid in the velvet sheets, listening to her labored breathing. "I knocked before I broke in through the terrace. I figured you were asleep and was about to head into my place but…"

Clare waited for him to finish. When he didn't she hushly asked, "But what?"

"I heard you crying, thrashing around." Clare touched the wettening skin under her eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I didn't have the best childhood." She vaguely replied to his tender pry. "Let's get some sleep. We have a murder to solve."

Clare felt him shift before settling in the covers. She knew he wanted to ask her questions, he couldn't help it. It was the detective in him. Wanting to solve the mystery that was Clare Fairchild. "I'm here for you too, Clary."

For a while she thought about not answering because she didn't know how to. She reached for the small ball that controlled the light on her end of the apartment. Flipping it off she realized that she hadn't slept with the door open in years.

She believed in him. Clare heard the small telltale _click_ of the lamp switch. "I know." She called out into the darkness that met her when she looked his way.

* * *

**_Happy Late Valentine's Day Massacre_**

**I don't really know what I AM DOING WITH MY LIFE. I am a mess of caffeine and existential crisis. The case of Alaric Loss is going to come to a close in the next chapter but which new one will open?**

**I can't ever remember which way Kaelie/Kealie is spelled.**

**Fair warning, this story will be going from T to M very soon. Sexy times between two characters will be steamy. The real question- which two characters? Dundundun.**

**I started doing this thing on my profile where I write down when I'm posting the next chapter of all my stories and just general updates of how the writing process of each story is going.**

**So to speak quiet frankly right now, I don't know what to do with all the stories I'm writing currently. I think I might put several on hiatus but I haven't decided which ones yet- probably not this one but whichever ones get the biggest attention will be the ones I keep going with.**

**I've decided to do a oneshots for Teen Wolf and Stargate, respectively. If you haven't watched either please do- they're amazing.**

**XOXO**

**RR**

**More reviews, follow, favorites=more updates**


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